




















The Young Nurse 


Page 12 


RUTH IRVING, M.D 



ALICE A. BARBER. 





PHILADELPHIA : 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
AND SABBATH-SCHOOL WORK, 

No. 1334 CHESTNUT STREET. 






TZs 
3 a.i'R 


COPYRIGHT, 1889, BY 

THE TRUSTEES OF THE 

PRESBYTERIAN BOARD OF PUBLICATION 
AND SABBATII-SCHOOL WORK. 


ALL BIGHTS RESER TED. 





Westcott & Thomson, 
Stereotypers and Electrotypers , Philada . 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

Western Life 9 

CHAPTER II. 

Her Father’s Sign 17 

CHAPTER III. 

Premonitory Symptoms 23 

CHAPTER IV. 

The Spirit of Beauty and the Christian’s God . 34 

CHAPTER V. 

Something Different 42 

CHAPTER VI. 

Ruth’s Next Case 55 

3 


4 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER VET. 

PAGE 

A Western Boarding-House 67 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Traveling-Man 77 

CHAPTER IX. 

This Western Country 94 

CHAPTER X. 

“Landing on some Silent Shore” 106 

CHAPTER XI. 

Going On Without Him 121 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Skating-Rink, or Homer? 127 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Out of Work 146 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Dream, and its Cause 161 

CHAPTER XV. 

That Stranger our Neighbor 169 


CONTENTS. 


5 


CHAPTER XVI. 

PAGE 

Ruth’s Story 181 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Brotherhood op Man 194 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

The Next Thing 207 

CHAPTER XIX. 

A Beautiful World 225 

CHAPTER XX. 

Climbing the Bluff . 236 

CHAPTER XXI. 

An Old Book 251 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Vacation 265 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

On the Ranch 277 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Choice and Circumstance 293 


6 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

PAGE 

Twos 303 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

The Harder Task of Standing Still 311 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

The College in the Desert 319 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Together 326 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Weighty Work . 330 


PREFACE. 


The manuscript is completed ; to-morrow it goes 
to the publishers — from them to the world. 
Friends may speak in its praise or in blame, but I 
shall miss one voice : it was silenced in a Western 
grave. So I send out this little story in memory 
of the noble brother who taught my hand to write 
for God and truth. 

The Author. 


7 






w 


















































































































































RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


CHAPTER I. 

WESTERN LIFE. 

“ The noblest in the old-time fight 
Matched not the humblest here that falls, 

And never were there won such scars 
As these, won in these nobler wars — 

These bloodless wars that bring not pain, 

These priceless victories of Peace, 

Where Pride is slain and Self is slain, 

Where Patience has her victories.” 

A PRAIRIE-PICTURE is one of grand per- 
spective. There are broad stretches of level, 
swelling mounds, dimpled nests of dainty grasses. 
Oh the wonderful growth of the grasses in whose 
protecting shadows birds find safe and pleasant 
homes ! Storm-worn bluffs guard lazy rivers 
fringed with wild plum trees or low-bending wil- 
lows. Over all bends a sky of clearest, purest blue, 


10 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


and the red men on their swift ponies rush across 
the plains in pursuit of the abundant game of this 
the land of their fathers. All this was in history’s 
yesterday, for the relentless hand of Anglo-Saxon 
energy has laid hold on this goodly land, and, 
crushing all who stand in the way, will subdue it. 
The old tragedy of conquest is being repeated; 
again in the graves of a failing race will be laid 
the foundations of another race’s glory. 

In this land of bustle and change there are grow- 
ing up a manhood and a womanhood which are un- 
known in any other part of the world. Here the 
word “ neighbor” comes very near to bearing its 
Christian meaning ; here the Easterner, the South- 
erner, the English, the Danish, the Swedish, the 
Irish, the German, the French, the Italian, and 
every other race under the sun, must coalesce and 
form a new race simply and broadly American. 
The red man, the black man and the little yellow 
man from over the Pacific will have much to say as 
to the smoothness with which those forces unite. 

Where the free, wild prairies and the time-worn 
bluffs shone in the Nebraska sunlight, stands to-day 
the rushing, busy city of Omaha, the future queen 
of the West. In Western life the survival of the 


WESTERN LIFE. 


11 


fittest means the survival of the strongest in bone 
and muscle, brain and nerve, “sand and cheek.” 
The last qualities are characteristic of American 
success. The failures are hid as surely in the surge 
of Western life as though they had been sunk in the 
Missouri. Life here is a medley in which is found 
every relation, condition, mood and tense of men 
and things. 

A second-story front room on North Sixteenth 
street was a medley, and a pleasing one withal. It 
was large and well favored with windows, where on 
pleasant days the brilliant Nebraska sunlight came 
in floods. Sunlight will of itself almost furnish a 
room. This one owed none of its cheeriness to sun- 
light, however, for the windows revealed only an 
unusually active blizzard. 

Still, the room was cheery. The carpet, of soft 
golden browns, and the easy-chairs seemed made and 
purchased for use. A shaded lamp stood in the 
centre of the table; books and papers were lying 
all about. Indeed, there were books in almost 
every possible place. On the walls hung a diploma 
and two ink-portraits — one of noble, loyal manhood, 
the other of a tender womanly face. The dainty 
work-basket and the evident effort to make a little 


12 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


go a great way told that a home-loving woman had 
to do with the room. The half-opened curtains of 
a doorway revealed the holy of holies of the place ; 
a white bed and a tasteful dressing-bureau, on 
which were a lady’s collar and a case of surgical 
instruments in close companionship, told the story 
of a professional woman’s home. 

A young girl sat in an easy-chair before a large 
coal-heating stove. She was below the medium 
height, slightly but strongly framed. She had an 
earnest face from which looked out a pair of eyes 
of that peculiar shade of brown which indicates 
courage and firmness of character. Her toilet, 
though neat, had every appearance of having been 
made in a hurry. Her manner was that of one 
who, weary and resting, is still ready for instant 
action. 

The early winter twilight, helped by the blincjipg 
snow, shut swiftly down. The girl rosa and walked 
to the window ; she stood for a moment looking out 
on the gathering night. How the snow flew and 
blew ! It seemed as though it had taken out a con- 
tract to travel by the league and was in a hurry to 
be done with it. People slid, rushed and were blown 
about as only Western people ever are rushed and 


WESTERN LIFE. 


13 


blown. Weary of watching, the girl gave the stove 
a vigorous shaking down and then lighted the lamp. 
The bright glow increased the cheeriness of the 
room and made radiant such a face as one would 


wish to go home to’ after a stormy day. It is a 
pleasure to see such a face across the breakfast-table 
even if one has seen it there every morning for ten 
years. She lighted the lamp and talked to herself 
meanwhile — a thing she was not in the habit of do- 
ing. She — Ruth Irving — talked in this fashion : 

“ I wish the Doctor would come ! The slate says, 
1 Be back at four-thirty f it must be nearly five 
now. Yes ; there is the Union Pacific whistle, and 
— here is the Doctor too,” she added, joyfully, as 
she ran to the door and half smothered the figure 
there with the warmth of her greeting J ^ 

“ Home again, Doctor !” ; she cried • “ Ik now 
you are glad to see me. Arc you almost frozen ? 
Let me unfasten your cloak. I have been waiting 
here two long hours, and they have seemed longer 
than all the time I have been away.” 

“ I am very glad to see you, Ruthie,” saj$Tthe 
Doctor as Ruth’s nimble fingers unfastened the 
cloak. 

The modern servant of iEsculapius gaveTi^fself 


14 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


a thorough shaking, sending little particles of snow 
in every direction. 

The Doctor placed her medicine-case on the 
table and seated herself to warm her feet, while 
Ruth hung the hat and cloak on the hooks behind 
the door and then bustled around to find warm slip- 
pers, all the while plying the Doctor with questions 
both grave and gay. At last the Doctor — other- 
wise known as “ Miss Helen A. Ross, M. D.” — had 
a chance to speak. 

“ How have you been, Ruth ?” she asked. “Are 
you not worn out ? I was absent when you were 
called away, but your note said you nursed for 
Dr. Smith. Has your patient recovered?” 

“ Of course my patient recovered ! She took 
dinner with the family to-day. Case was pneumo- 
nia; nervous too. She wanted me to earn my 
money. She slept well, however; so I am quite 
rested. How has the suffering world treated you ?” 
Ruth asked, as she noticed that Dr. Ross looked 
pale and worn. 

“ I have no cause for complaint,” said the Doc- 
tor. “ I have done much street-car riding ; I have 
taken many long walks for the good of the humans 
and my purse; I have had some sleepless nights, 


WESTERN LIFE. 


15 


and I believe sleepless nights are symptoms of suc- 
cess in my profession ; I have met very pleasant 
people in my new calls. Rutkie, what about sup- 
per?” 

“ I suppose we shall go to the boarding-house,” 
Ruth replied as she thoughtfully surveyed the un- 
der side of her dress-sleeve. 

“I suppose we will not,” said the Doctor, de- 
cidedly ; “ we pay twenty-five cents for every meal 
we eat in that house. Now, I have crackers, butter, 
pepper and salt ; half a pint of oysters will be just 
about one dime. We will have an oyster-stew in 
our room to-night.” 

“Been taking a course in domestic economy?” 
asked Ruth, with a quick, gay laugh. Those quick, 
bright laughs were some of “ her ways,” and ways 
which were very dear to her friends. 

“ I want a horse and buggy ;” and the Doctor 
joined in the laughter. 

“ I never cry for the moon ;” and Ruth’s face 
suddenly became very sober. 

“ I do,” laughed the Doctor. “ I have cried for 
every one of the heavenly bodies, separately and 
collectively, save and excepting the sun. Now I 
want the Big Dipper. What a help that bright star- 


16 


RUTH IRVIN 0 , M. D. 


spangled Big Dipper of my ambition — otherwise a 
horse and buggy — would be to me !” 

“I am a self-appointed committee on oysters,” 
cried Ruth ; and she quickly began to put on her 
cloak. Then, with “ Fortune favors the brave ” by 
way of farewell, she started on her errand. 

The young girl ran lightly along the snow-blown 
streets. The wind tugged at every fold of her 
clothing, but she did not mind it. Hers had not 
been a sheltered life ; she was used to activity and 
to struggles that were more disheartening than was 
a Nebraska blizzard. 


CHAPTER II. 

HER FATHER’S SIGN. 


“ One of the workers of the world 
Living toiled, and toiling died ; 

But others worked, and the work went on 
And was not changed when he was gone. 

A strong arm stricken, a wide sail furled, 

And only a few men sighed.” 

TTELEN ROSS had been blessed with a healthy, 
“ L-L happy childhood. Her father had been a 
hard-working doctor in Illinois; he had been 
a man who seemed to have some talent for every- 
thing besides making and keeping money. His 
practice had been large, but he had not been a 
good collector: it went much against his kindly 
nature to dun a poor patient. It seemed that all 
the poor people in that town employed him. He 
had been a firm friend; troubled souls looked to 
him for help, and always found it. His tastes in 
general and professional reading, good pictures, and 

the like, were far beyond his means. Helen’s 
2 17 


18 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


mother had been a gentle home-woman who worked 
those kitchen and sewing-room miracles whereby 
a family is made to live in comfort on a small 
amount of money and the products of a good 
garden. 

So things had gone on until Helen was a merry 
schoolgirl of sixteen, and the Rosses had never 
known that they were poor people. Everything 
considered, they were a very happy family. That 
summer a fever broke out in Rock Island. Dr. 
Ross worked faithfully to bring health to other 
homes, and, as if in revenge, the dreadful disease 
claimed him for its last victim. It made swift work 
of burning out the life of the man who had been 
everybody’s friend. Every one was very sorry for 
the widow and the fatherless. After the manner of 
the times, every one went to the funeral. 

“ What was he worth ?” people asked as they 
went home. He was worth so much that many of 
the world’s “ successful men ” will want to change 
seats with him at the judgment-day. 

“After the funeral ” ! There is a world of sad- 
ness in those words. You who know the dreariness 
of them remember how the extra chairs had been 
taken away before you returned from the grave. 


HER FATHER'S SIGN. 


19 


Kind friends had tried to make things look just as 
they had looked before death entered the home. 
The friends had put one chair partly out of sight, 
but you could see it all the more plainly. Then 
the neighbors all went away and left you alone 
with your sorrow. The world went on just as it 
had gone last week, but to you it would for ever be 
different. So it was that the Rosses were left alone. 
Night settled swiftly down over Rock Island, the 
river slipped by, and two women looked calmly 
into the future. Then came the question which 
always intrudes itself at such times : “ What shall 
we do next?” 

Helen went into her father’s office. She looked 
over rows of medical books, she laid her soft fingers 
on bright horrid-looking instruments for which she 
knew no name ; then she went back to her mother, 
and, standing in the firelight, said slowly, 

“ Mamma, I have decided it : I shall be a doctor, 
just as I always planned to be. Papa was willing ; 
only he thought it would be a hard life for me. 
Whatever else we sell, we must keep papa’s books.” 

The mother answered encouragingly. Together 
they looked into the ‘ftiture and dreamed of the 
time when Helen might write her name as her 


20 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


father had done. Nor was this decision hasty. 
From her babyhood Helen had taken a deep inter- 
est in her father’s work and talked of the time 
when she herself should be a doctor. Many were 
the dolls, kittens, toads and insects she had subjected 
to vigorous treatment for diseases which no one but 
herself understood. As they had ridden over the 
bright Illinois prairie, father and daughter had 
talked of studying medicine, and the father — wiser 
than he knew — had given the daughter many help- 
ful hints. 

It was not time then for Helen to begin her 
professional studies — other branches must be taken 
up first — and mother and daughter set bravely to 
work. Though frail in body, Mrs. Ross had been 
her husband’s companion and confidante. Her rare 
intelligence enabled her to keep a general idea of 
her husband’s work, though she never dreamed of a 
profession for herself. It was a hard life, but they 
worked patiently and bravely, sewing, teaching, 
doing fancy-work — anything by which they could 
earn money. Plain clothes, worn boots and oft- 
times no best dress at all comprised their wearing- 
apparel. They ate cheap food. 

At the age of twenty-four Helen was graduated 


HER FATHER'S SIGN. 


21 


from the medical college. She had earned the right 
to the dear old sign — her father’s name and hers : 


H. A. ROSS, M. D. 


They moved to Omaha, rented two rooms and put 
up the father’s sign. Patients came slowly. All 
young doctors find it so. People will employ ex- 
perienced physicians, and experience does not come 
safely sealed in dollar bottles. 

Mrs. Ross and her daughter were hopeful from 
force of habit, and the future was very bright. At 
the end of the first year both ends met, but no 
amount of saving could make them lap one dol- 
lar’s worth. And who shall say how many times 
these people had dined off mush and milk? 

Dr. Ross became known. An enthusiast in 
her profession, she carried hope and courage into 
sick-rooms. Life grew full and bright. Success 
grew certain. Then Mrs. Ross suffered from an 
old heart-trouble. Her daughter worked with the 
zeal of desperation ; she called in the best counsel the 
city afforded, but it was of no use. In a few hours 


22 


RUTH IRVING, M. 1). 


the young doctor learned the weakness of human 
skill, for she was motherless. 

The profession which while the mother lived had 
seemed so bright and dear took color from the artist 
who paints only in gray shadows. Science is a hard 
thing when it is all one has to live for. But Helen 
Boss had lived and gone about her work bravely 
and well. For a year after her mother died she 
was alone ; then she met Buth Irving. The girl’s 
bright ways were a comfort to the saddened woman 
who longed for sunshine and cheery laughter. The 
two women planned to live together. Buth moved 
her few worldly goods to the pleasant rooms on Six- 
teenth street, and Helen Boss welcomed her home 
after each new case as she did that stormy night. 

Buth regarded the Doctor as experienced and 
almost middle-aged ; the Doctor knew Buth was 
womanly beyond her years. Dr. Boss knew that 
Buth’s foster-parents had died three years before, 
and that in nursing Mrs. Irving the girl had 
shown wonderful skill. Her deft ways did not 
escape the sharp eyes of the attending physician. 
When the mother no longer needed her care, Buth 
found work in other homes ; now she had become 
favorably known as a nurse. 


CHAPTER III. 

PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 

“ Strength for to-day that the weary hearts 
In the battle of life may fail not, 

And the eyes bedimmed with bitter tears 
In their search for light may fail not.” 

S O, with mind intent on buying oysters, Ruth was 
blown along the street toward the nearest gro- 
cery. 

A Western grocery is a school of modern lan- 
guages taught by natural methods. Busy clerks 
do up butter and baking-powder in half a dozen 
tongues, for every food-emporium is supposed to 
keep that number on hand and ready for instant 
use. On Saturday a small Babel is let loose, for 
all speak with different tongues, while you make 
frantic efforts to remember your own native lan- 
guage. Ruth aired her newly-acquired Swedish 
in asking for the oysters ; for if we must teach our 
language to millions of foreigners every year, why 

should not they, in turn, teach us their jargon? 

23 


24 


RUTII IRVING, M. I). 


The little winged wretch who has made trouble 
for young people ever since the wedding in Eden 
was abroad that night. To his other sins be it 
added that he caused Roy Ford to look in at the 
window as he passed the grocery. Had Dr. Ross 
and Ruth Irving taken supper at the boarding- 
house, this same Roy Ford would have been seated 
near them; he would have seen that they lacked 
no good thing, and Ruth would have been very 
happy. Dr. Ross would have looked on and been 
troubled as she discovered the premonitory symp- 
toms of a disease which no medical man or woman 
can fully diagnose. 

Dr. Ross did not like Roy Ford ; she knew he 
was of the genus Fast — at least, he was as much so 
as his salary and credit would allow. She knew 
he would be of no lasting good to Ruth Irving ; 
but when he chose he could be very agreeable and 
fascinating. Dr. Ross was a wise woman. She 
breathed no word of all this knowledge to Ruth 
lest in a fit of girlish resentment she should rise 
from mere liking into love. Yes, rise into love ; for, 
whatever the object of the love, pure, true human 
love is an elevation to the soul which is exercised 
thereby. The wily Doctor treated the young man 


PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 


25 


cordially and prayed that he might go West, being 
herself a good Providence to Ruth in that she saw 
him as little as possible. Still, Ruth admired Roy 
Ford — why, no scientific man can explain. 

Instead of the chat at the supper-table, Mr. Ford 
walked home through the storm with Ruth. 

“ ‘ It vas von pig plizzard/ saith Yon Yonson,” 
Ruth remarked as she brought in the oysters and a 
gust of cold air. She said no word of Roy Ford. 
Why? 

Dr. Ross, left alone, had not been idle. The 
books and papers were gone from the table, and 
snow-white napkins covered the bright cloth; the 
dishes were arranged for the little supper. Some- 
thing was bubbling in the small tin kettle on the 
back of the Garland stove. Dr. Ross deftly slipped 
the oysters into the kettle, and Ruth sat watching 
her as she dipped the steaming soup into plates. It 
was a pleasure to watch the Doctor ; there is always 
a sort of fascination in the movements of trained 
human hands. 

“ I hope people will kindly remain healthy to- 
night,” said Ruth as they took their places at the 
table. “ This is the worst storm of the season, and 
I do not wish to be called out in it.” 


26 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“It is also the first storm of the season,” said 
Dr. Ross, with a smile. 

“ I know,” Ruth replied ; “ but this one is so 
severe that it seems as though we were in the 
middle of winter instead of being scarcely in Decem- 
ber. Now, Doctor, I find that we each have saved 
fifteen cents by this oyster-stew. Query : How 
long will it take you to save your horse and bug- 
gy and me to save my way through college?” 

“ I hope to have my horse in the spring,” re- 
turned the Doctor; “I did not know that you 
thought of a college education. I was eight years 
in earning my medical education.” 

“Sometimes I think of it, and sometimes I 
don’t.” Ruth laughed, and then she changed the 
subject : “ When I first knew you, I used to try to 
fancy you about household tasks, but the picture 
never would be perfect until I really saw you per- 
form them.” 

“ Why not ?” Dr. Ross inquired, looking up. 

“Because. A woman’s reason. I suppose it 
was because of the two letters which you write 
after your name.” 

“ I never expected to hear such a speech as that 
from you, Ruth Irving. Why, you are almost a 


PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 


27 


professional woman yourself. Does my profession 
make me any the less womanly ?” 

Two bright spots glowed on the Doctor’s cheeks. 
This was a sore subject. Her gentle mother had 
been her ideal woman, and she dreaded lest her 
own contact with the world should make her grow 
away from that type of womanhood. 

“ No, indeed !” laughed Ruth. “ You are safely 
anchored to this truth : 1 To be womanly is the 
greatest charm of woman.’ But about the profes- 
sion. It is this way : I want something more than 
I have. I feel so alone ! I seem so cut loose from 
my work when I get home from each case ! I am 
not a trained nurse; like many others, I have 
taken up this work because I have a knack for it, 
and because I can earn more by it than by any 
other work which I can do. I am very young; 
difficult cases want a more experienced nurse. I 
was idle some time before this last case, and I 
have a presentiment that this will be a fearfully 
healthy winter.” 

“ Ruth, your vocation may be speechmaking,” 
said the Doctor, laughing. “ Besides, presentiments 
do not count in this matter-of-fact age ; realities are 
what we deal with. Let me help you to more of 


28 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


this soup ; it is very good. But, Ruthie, I thought 
that you never borrowed trouble?” 

“Why, Doctor, I don’t — that is, I don’t very 
often,” said Ruth. “ But, some way, I am very 
much stirred up to-day. I have been in an atmo- 
sphere of interrogation-points for three weeks ; I feel 
that my little island of life is in danger of sinking 
from sight.” 

“ That is not a good comparison,” said the Doc- 
tor; “life should be compared to a stream. I 
think it more than likely that yours will be merged 
into that of another.” 

Ruth’s face flushed as she thought of the words 
out in the storm. She wondered why she had not 
spoken of Mr. Ford, but she had not, and surely 
she did not wish to begin at that moment. So she 
answered : 

“ I suppose your simile was intended to represent 
matrimony. Let us lay aside poetry and romance 
while we resort to figures. The London Tmth is 
responsible for this statement.” She drew from her 
pocket a scrap of newspaper. There are nine 
hundred and forty-eight thousand more women than 
men in Great Britain.’ ” 

“American census-takers are too polite to tell us 


PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 


29 


that we are supernumerary here,” was the Doctor’s 
comment. “ Ruth, what do you argue from those 
figures ?” 

“I only read it as a comment on the c woman 
question 9 and the relation it bears to our work. I 
suppose that editor would count us among the sur- 
plus women.” 

“ I suppose he would,” said the Doctor, quietly. 
“ What is it now ?” she asked ; for Ruth laughed 
gayly. 

“ You should see the second-girl with whom I 
have had to do since I have been gone. What are 
we going to do with all the foreigners that are pour- 
ing in upon us ?” 

“I don’t know, Ruthie,” the Doctor answered, 
slowly; "it is a serious question. Few Americans 
realize the state of things. Every ism — almost 
every religion — is represented right here in Oma- 
ha. Dr. Austin Phelps says, ‘ Five hundred years 
of time in the process of the world’s salvation may 
depend on the next twenty years of United States 
history.’ ” 

“ Say five hundred years of time in the world’s 
civilization, and I shall be satisfied,” Ruth re- 
sponded, quickly. 


30 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


“ What about the second-girl ?” asked the Doc- 
tor. 

“ Oh, Doctor, her ideas were so funny !” and 
Ruth laughed again. “ I asked her what dainty 
she would like for Thanksgiving, and she said, 
‘Some beer and some bologna-sausage.’ What 
would the stern old Pilgrims have said to such a 
Thanksgiving ? But that is the ‘ German vote/ as 
the politicians say. She told me that she was soon 
to marry a young German ; the next generation 
will be just like them, only they will be native-born 
Americans. What is going to be done about it ? 
The cook was a Swede ; the coachman, a negro. 
Yesterday they all quarreled. I went to the kitch- 
en to see what the trouble was about, and the cook 
cried, ‘ Germany, Sweden and Africa are fighting ; 
America come make peace.’ That is just it: we 
must make peace or be torn in pieces.” 

“ There are several things which might be done,” 
said the Doctor, thoughtfully. “ I should prescribe 
the best reconciling power that I know of — the 
gospel of Jesus Christ.” 

“ But, Doctor my dear, you know I do not 
believe in that gospel,” Ruth objected. 

Dr. Ross lived her religion every day of her life, 


PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 


31 


but she never argued it. She looked thoughtful 
for a moment, and then changed the subject : 

44 Ruth, I am tired of being 4 Doctored ’ all the 
time ; can’t you manage to say 4 Helen ’ ?” 

44 I don’t know, Doctor. • There it is again ! I 
am not used to it. There are so few whom I have 
a right to call by their Christian names.” 

44 I give you the right to call me 4 Helen,’ and I 
shall feel hurt if you do not do so.” 

The signs of the little supper had been oblit- 
erated ; the room was in its pretty sitting-room 
order, and these two of the world’s workers sat 
and rested. It was well-earned rest. They held 
a long conference on subjects which are dear to 
women, but which no man can comprehend. Every 
minute was doubly enjoyed because both knew it 
was only of free grace that the doorbell did not 
ring. Both had learned the secret of resting be- 
tween the heart-beats, and so made the most of 
every minute. 

Ruth, who had gone so hardily on her way that 
night and been brought back with such tender care, 
felt safe and rested in her heart’s core. Oh, shel- 
tered womanhood, to whom love and tender care are 
as common as the air you breathe, remember Ruth 


32 


RUTH IRVING , ilf. D. 


Irving spent her life in waiting on and watching 
over others. Her eyes must be quick to see danger, 
her hands quick to shield some one else’s darling. 
The moments when she was watched and cared for 
were few and far between. She was just nineteen, 
and her heart felt a woman’s need of love. No 
wonder there was a tender light in her eyes and the 
world seemed very fair to her even in the teeth of 
a Nebraska blizzard. But why did she not say, 
“ I met Mr. Ford on the street to-night, and he 
walked home with me ? She had said nothing of 
him when she first returned, and every moment 
made it harder to begin. There was what was 
termed “an understanding” between those two 
young people — most certainly, Ruth had ample 
cause for such an understanding — but there was 
no engagement to be announced. Such a state of 
things is very hard to explain to an unsympathetic 
listener. 

Dr. Ross was no anomaly that she should take 
no interest in a love-affair ; moreover, this fair girl 
was very dear to her. The Doctor would have 
blessed Ruth and given her to one worthy of her, 
and thanked the Lord that there were two strong 
arms between this girl and the wicked world ; but 


PREMONITORY SYMPTOMS. 


33 


Roy Ford was not the man to share these blessings. 
He never would be unless he reformed and led a 
very different life. 

So Ruth went on peering into the future; she 
tried to settle those questions of life and fate which 
are for ever unsettled. All the while the quiet 
woman before her wondered at this mood, so new 
to Ruth Irving. 

3 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE SPIRIT OF BEAUTY AND THE CHRISTIAN’S 


GOD. 


" They who keep their best affections young 
Best love the beautiful.” 

HEN it’s good, it’s very, very good ; and 



" T when it’s bad, it’s horrid.” That is the 
way with Nebraska weather. I have introduced 
you to a blizzard, but you must not think that it 
will last all winter. No ; the storm will stay three 
days, and then will go away. Over the wide 
prairies will be spread the fairest winter sky in all 
the world. The plains will be bathed in a brilliant 
sunshine, while every breath of air will be like an 
inspiration. 

The storm still raged when the morning came. 
The wind tossed the snow just as it had done when 
Ruth watched for her friend’s coming. Dr. Ross 
and Ruth Irving were of that class of workers to 
whom sleep is vouchsafed at uncertain intervals. 
They loyally did the duty nearest them and settled 


THE SPIRIT OF BE A UTY. 


35 


all neglected accounts with Morpheus. It was 
nearly noon when they rose to the light of another 
stormy day. Their eyes were clear, their nerves 
steady, their bodies rested ; they were ready for 
any demand from the world of suffering. They 
were early at the boarding-house dinner-table. This 
house was half boarding-house, half hotel. It was 
more useful than elegant. There were many 
transient boarders; some came there for dinner 
only. Some people took their meals at this house 
because it was less trouble to go there than any- 
where else. 

Many hungry people gathered in the long dining- 
room that stormy Sunday. The greeting between 
Roy Ford and Ruth Irving was very quiet. Talk 
went on by fits and starts. People were there for 
the highly-laudable purpose of eating dinner, not 
to bless themselves with the society of the other 
lights. They said what they liked, and the fitness 
of things remained unchanged if one kept silence. 

“Mr. Norman, have you attended church to-day?” 
asked Mr. Ford as the gentleman addressed seated 
himself at the table. 

“ I have,” was the quiet reply ; whereat there 
was much exclaiming. 


36 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


“I am surprised,” said Mr. Ford. “This is a 
severe storm.” 

“ I went to my office yesterday,” said Mr. Nor- 
man, smiling. “Should I not serve my God as 
faithfully as I serve the almighty dollar?” 

“ Perhaps you should,” said Mr. Ford, eagerly, 
“but, so far as I know, that would be a new 
suggestion to most Christians.” 

Mr. Ford smiled, well satisfied at having started 
what he was pleased to term a “religious dis- 
cussion.” 

“Do you think you served God by fighting a 
storm just to hear a sermon?” Ruth asked. 

“ I think so,” replied Mr. Norman. “ I certainly 
worshiped God.” 

“ I wonder who else did likewise ?” Ruth ob- 
served as she glanced around the table. 

“ I did,” said Mr. Ford. 

“ What ! did you attend church ?” came in sur- 
prised tones from one who appeared to take no in- 
terest in the talk. 

“ I said that I worshiped,” Mr. Ford explained. 
“ My form of worship differs from Mr. Norman’s.” 

Then Miss Gleason spoke up : 

“I have heard that most people leave their 


THE SPIRIT OF BEA UTY. 37 

religion on the eastern side of the Mississippi when 
they come West ; this looks very much that way. 
Here is one man who owns to having worshiped 
Grod — one who worshiped he knows not what. — I 
wonder how many people there are in this room ?” 

“You must remember that the returns are not 
all in yet,” said Mr. Norman. 

“Also that work sometimes means worship,” Dr. 
Ross quietly added. 

“That reminds me of a subject over which I 
have long wondered,” said Miss Gleason, forgetting 
her counting. “ It is this : Do doctors ever repeat 
the Lord’s Prayer? If so, there is one petition 
which sounds very much as though they prayed 
that people might be made sick : ‘ Give us this day 
our daily bread.’ ” Her voice took a touch of rev- 
erence, in spite of the jesting tones. 

“Indeed it does not,” said Dr. Ross, quickly. 
“We know there will be sickness and suffering; 
we ask that we may be permitted to relieve some 
of it.” 

“ Well answered, Dr. Ross !” said Mr. Ford 
“ Rut I do not believe prayer has much to do with 
bread.” 

“ Do you believe in God ?” Mr. Norman asked. 


38 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ Not in your sort of a God,” replied Mr. Ford. 

“ What sort of a God do you believe in ?” 

“Why,” said Mr. Ford, “you Christians talk 
about an all-powerful God. Look at the misery in 
this city. If your God is good, he is not powerful, 
or he would not permit so much suffering. I wor- 
ship the Spirit of Beauty ; you find it in the starlit 
night, in the wide prairies. There is more to wor- 
ship in a single wild rose ’way out on the prairies 
than in the God you talk about.” 

“How so?” inquired Mr. Norman, not in the 
least startled by the statement. 

“ It is beautiful, sweet and pure ; your God is 
terrible. The Spirit of Beauty is greater than the 
Christian’s God, and that is just as sure as that 
water runs down hill.” 

“ If you study the subject, I think you will find 
that a great amount of water runs up hill,” said 
Mr. Norman, smiling as he spoke. 

“ God is not terrible to his followers,” said Dr. 
Ross, ignoring the natural tendency of water. 

“ That is just it,” went on the young man, who 
thought wisdom pure and undefiled was flowing 
from his lips. “Your God is partial. One of 
his creatures he sends to bliss ; another, to unend- 


THE SPIRIT OF BE A UTY. 


39 


ing misery. Don’t talk to me of a God who will 
separate a family.” 

Roy Ford leaned back in his chair with the air 
of a man who has made an original and praise- 
worthy remark. He was one of those people who 
are pleased to term themselves liberal and free- 
thinkers ; their much-worn statements as to good- 
ness and purity meet us at every turn. Instead of 
being liberal, they take the narrowest view of the 
“ great I Am.” 

All the people at the table had heard these re- 
marks before, and all were too much interested in 
other matters to care to prolong the conversation ; 
but Mr. Ford continued his confession of faith : 

“ I worship the wind and the storm, the Spirit 
of Strength and Beauty, the Spirit of the Prairies. 
Ah ! that is what you need. You ought to get full 
of the Spirit of the Prairies. Yes ; the Spirit of 
Beauty is greater than the Christian’s God.” 

“What do you name this spirit?” asked Mr. 
Norman. 

“ I call it Fate,” was the answer. 

“ ‘ Fate ’ ! Well, that is a good name for it,” said 
Mr. Norman, thoughtfully. “ But you are on myth- 
ological ground there, and you must be guided 


40 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


by the laws of mythology. Even in the palmiest 
days of Greek mythology it was recognized that 
Fate was only a sort of secondary power, and was 
subject to a mysterious over-power for which they 
knew no name. Now, an old book tells me that 
this power should be called ‘ Wonderful, Counsel- 
or, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The 
Prince of Peace.* That is the Power I went 
through the storm to worship this morning.” 

" But you don’t answer my arguments ; you can’t 
argue on this subject,” cried Mr. Ford. 

“I have heard no arguments. You have told 
me what you think and believe ; that will not an- 
swer. In a court of law you take oath to what 
you know, and I say I know that my Redeemer 
liveth.” 

Truth is always the same, and human need the 
same. To-day the Western lawyer frames his 
thought in the language of the patient man of the 
land of Uz. Some way, Mr. Ford was glad when 
that dinner was over. 

If there was any one thing that Ruth Irving 
worshiped, it was strength. Of all things, she de- 
sired to be independent. Mr. Ford seemed very in- 
dependent ; she thought he talked like a man who 


THE SPIRIT OF BE A UTY. 


41 


was very strong. There had been little time in her 
life for studying such subjects ; she resolutely bore 
her own burdens, and gave no thought to the “ Man 
of sorrows.” Helen Ross lived a religion pure and 
undefiled. That much Ruth knew; for the rest, 
she had lived all her life among free-thinkers. 

O free-thinkers, prophets of nothing, and you 
who worship the Spirit of Beauty, the Christian’s 
God looked down on the bright prairies and saw 
that they were good, yet he scattered countless wild 
roses to make sweet the radiant air, the glory of 
which is as the breath of his nostrils. The Spirit 
of Beauty is the thought of the Lord God almighty. 


CHAPTER Y. 

SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 

“ That man will guard where he did bind 
Is hope for unknown years.” 

OY FORD walked home with Dr. Ross and 



^ Ruth Irving ; he said it was veiy imprudent 
for ladies to venture out in such “ beastly weather.” 
That original remark was received by the ladies 
with withering derision. What were they better 
than others of their kind and calling? They 
declared that they enjoyed a blizzard ; it is a tonic, 
and as a rest is more to be desired than a picnic. 
Their glowing cheeks added strong testimony in 
favor of their laughing declarations. 

Yes ; Mr. Ford would lay aside his overcoat. He 
seated himself with the air of a man who intends 
to stay. The three talked of little nothings 
which are bright and interesting at the time, but 
which only two of any company can remember for ten 


SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


43 


minutes. To the two, such nothings are frequently 
more enduring than is any truth of philosophy. 

Dr. Ross donned her cloak and wrapped her 
head in a dainty hood and thick veil ; she assured 
her friends that some of her patients must be seen, 
no matter how the storm behaved. She received 
many laughing cautions and suggestions as to the 
best course to take in case she should be blown 
away ; then she bade them a laughing “ Good-bye,” 
while in her heart she wished that Roy Ford was 
in Greenland. Not that she feared to leave Ruth 
without a chaperon while she entertained gentleman- 
friends. This was in the earlier days of Omaha ; 
to that generation a chaperon was an unnecessary 
luxury. Besides all this, Ruth Irving was much 
used to taking care of herself. How Dr. Ross did 
dislike Roy Ford ! It required all her tact to avoid 
letting Ruth know it. The more she disliked him, 
the more anxious she was not to offend Ruth. On 
the whole, Helen A. Ross, M. D., was as miserable as 
people who meddle in affairs of that kind usually 
are. 

Roy Ford loved the young nurse, witli her cheery 
ways and merry laugh, as much as was in his nature 
to love any woman. His nature was too shallow 


44 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


for an unselfish love ; therefore he was attracted to 
Ruth, with her steadfast heart and strong, loving 
endurance. Roy Ford was poor. He told the 
“ boys ” that he was too poor to marry, and that he 
was not a marry ing-man ; but, just the same, he 
told the old, old story — old as Eden, yet sweet and 
new to every passing generation. He told it well, 
and Ruth, listening, thought no woman was so 
blest as she. Of all men the one before her seemed 
the most worthy of the best and purest that a 
woman can give. Girls always have an ideal 
manhood; Ruth thought hers was named Roy 
Ford. That afternoon she enjoyed a season of 
unmixed bliss. Will the memory of it help her 
bear her burdens if the fond lover ever proves to 
be an indifferent husband? 

Mr. Ford was night-superintendent in one of the 
many industries which in the mad race for money 
are kept going nights and Sundays. In the early 
twilight he went back to his business, and left 
Ruth alone with her dreams of the future. Her 
pulses throbbed steadily. What had become of 
the puzzling questions of twenty-four hours ago? 
They were all answered in the one name “Roy 
Ford.” The girl smiled as she patted the finger 


SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


45 


which was to wear the shining token of the best 
gift of God — the God she would not own. It was 
the same world, the same room, and the same storm 
raged without, while the fire needed shaking down 
as it had done the night before ; but all was very 
different. 

Ruth attended to the fire and watched in the 
twilight for her friend’s comings her greeting was 
as warm as it had been the night before. 

“ Don’t light a lamp, Ruth ; let us sit in the 
firelight, as we used to do at home. I have longed 
for this hour all day ; it seems to bring my mother 
nearer.” 

The portraits on the wall showed dimly ; perhaps 
the dimness made them seem more real. You who 
sometimes suddenly enter a dimly-lighted room 
where you have hung the picture of a dear one 
gone up higher will understand how in the half- 
light the lips seem just parting for a loving word. 
We stretch out our hands, and then we remember 
that we have only the picture. 

“ I will tell her now,” Ruth thought. “ Surely, 
if her heart longs for her loved ones, she will be 
glad for me.” 

Ruth was almost beginning her story, when sweet 


46 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


and clear rang out the words of that familiar gospel 
hymn “ Jesus Only.” Dr. Ross was one of God’s 
sweet singers — not great nor powerful, but sweet. 
She could touch her hearers’ hearts, for she lived 
as well as sang the love of the Son of God whom 
Roy Ford had reviled that day at the dinner-table. 
Ruth knew all this ; respect for Helen Ross kept 
her tongue from such remarks as those in which Mr. 
Ford had indulged. Once she had used such words 
glibly enough, but, whatever she might be willing 
to do to the Creator of the universe, she would not 
wound Helen Ross. Ruth dreaded to tell Dr. 
Ross that she loved a man who denied the Chris- 
tian’s God ; then came to her the recollection that 
she had spoken of the Doctor, and that Mr. Ford 
had said, 

“ No matter about telling her ; this shall be our 
little secret.” 

The girl believed in her lover ; she did not stop 
to remember that he ought to have been proud to 
have that little secret published to the world’s end 
should she so will. She listened to the sweet, clear 
singing and asked for one hymn after another, until 
the singing changed to stories, and the Doctor talked 
of the old home in Rock Island, of her father and 


SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


47 


mother and her healthy, happy childhood. After a 
time she suddenly asked, 

“ Ruth, why is it that you never speak of your 
childhood ?” 

Ruth had risen, and was walking back and forth 
in the fire-lighted room ; she made no answer, and 
the Doctor, thinking she did not hear, repeated her 
question, and added, 

“ I have no idea where you used to live nor of 
one single event in your life up to the time your 
foster-mother died. Most people have moved here 
from somewhere ; so I suppose that you have done 
the same thing.” 

Ruth’s eyes blazed as she paused in front of her 
companion ; her voice was harsh and cold as she 
answered : 

“ Helen Ross, I never speak of my childhood be- 
cause I never had a childhood. I was ten years old 
when Mrs. Irving took me to bring up. Until 
that time there is not one single memory that I 
would not blot out if I could. Mrs. Irving was a 
good woman ; she did what she thought her duty by 
me, but I never had a doll nor a good-night kiss ; 
so don’t talk to me of childhood. I don’t under- 
stand it as you do.” 


48 


RUTH IRVING, M . D. 


Ruth moved to the window and laid her cheek 
against the cold glass. She tried to look out on the 
storm, but her eyes were blinded by tears. Now, 
perhaps, you understand something of the sweetness 
of the passionate words she had heard that after- 
noon, but why should those bitter memories be 
wakened at the beginning of her happiness ? Dr. 
Ross watched the girl in amazement. She did not 
know what to say or what to do ; so she wisely did 
nothing. 

The doorbell rang ; the Doctor lighted a lamp 
and opened the door. A voice from the storm 
asked, 

“ Is Miss Irving at home ?” 

" Come in ! Who wants me ?” asked Ruth as 
she came forward. 

A snowy young giant entered the room and re- 
plied : 

“A Miss Phelps ; she is a teacher, and boards at 
Mrs. Jewell’s. She was taken sick yesterday, but 
has grown worse all day ; the doctor says that she 
must have a nurse to-night. It is an awful night, 
but I beg that you will go with me, for I fear that 
this girl is very sick. My name is John Anderson, 
and I also board at Mrs. JewelFs.” He was a 


SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


49 


broad-shouldered, big-hearted man; he could not 
hide his intense anxiety, nor could he conceal his 
interest in his fellow-boarder. 

“ I will be ready in ten minutes,” said Ruth as 
she passed into the inner room. 

With the Doctor’s help, Ruth placed a few ar- 
ticles in a small satchel ; long experience had taught 
her what she most needed. When she was ready, 
she said, 

“ Doctor — I mean Helen — will you tell Mr. Ford 
that I have been called away ? I will send you a 
note as soon as I can.” 

Helen Ross put her arms around the young girl 
and said gently, 

u Be my sister, Ruthie. I have always wanted a 
sister so much !” 

“ Yes, Helen, I will,” said Ruth ; and she sealed 
this covenant with a kiss, as she had done the 
other covenant a few hours before, while Helen 
Ross wondered that Ruth had grown so pale when 
she said to her, “ I want a sister so much !” 

“ I blush for my sex,” said Mr. Anderson, “ but 
not a carriage could I get. There will be a street- 
car along in about ten minutes ; so I think that I 
can take you safely. The red-car line passes our 

4 


50 


RUTH TRYING, M. D. 


house.” He went to the street door and listened for 
the tinkle of the car-bell ; soon he gave two sharp 
whistles, by way of attracting the driver’s attention, 
and ran up the stairs to meet Ruth. 

Mr. Anderson took the windward side of the 
walk, and told Ruth that his huge form must be 
quite a protection for her small body. Ruth 
laughed and clung to his arm ; so they fought their 
way together. Surely, in such a storm, one must 
walk by faith, and not by sight. The world seemed 
deluged in moving, stinging snow, through which 
only the faintest glimmer of the street-lamps was 
granted them. A sort of instinct guided them to the 
car; the few people inside were deploring the fate 
which compelled them to be abroad on such a night. 

Ruth buried her feet in the straw which filled 
the bottom of the car ; she shivered and drew her 
extra shawl closer about her. A friendly Swede laid 
a large shawl across her lap and remarked, 

“ It is very freeze to-night.” 

The car did not stir ; surely it was not overloaded, 
for it contained only eight people. The snow was 
not deep, but it was blown about with the enterprise 
characteristic of a Nebraska blizzard, in which the 
wind acts as a patent double-back-action sieve and 


SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


51 


makes the most of a given quantity of snow. The 
driver’s voice was heard in tones of mild persuasion, 
and soon in tones which were not so mild, while his 
language became highly figurative. 

“ Those horses must be of sedentary habits,” said 
Mr. Anderson, trying to be funny while he shiv- 
ered. 

“ They are worse than that,” replied a hairy ob- 
ject in the corner. Said object was crowned by a 
Mexican sombrero — sure indication that the wearer 
was a cowboy by profession and occupation. 
“ Worse than that,” he repeated. “ The party out- 
side can’t manage a broncho. Those horses are 
balky.” 

Sounds began to indicate that the point would be 
contested in a lively manner. The driver indulged 
in vigorous Western profanity, while the horse exe- 
cuted a lively series of gymnastics with his heels. 

“I will step outside and teach the tenderfoot 
to round up without making the cattle stampede,” 
said the cowboy as he drew off his overcoat and 
wrapped it about Ruth’s shivering form ; then, 
giving his pistol-belt a hitch, he stepped into the 
storm : “ Say, partner, let up on that swearing 
racket of yours ; there is a little girl in that traveling 


52 


RUTH JR VINO, M. I). 


ice-box. You wait a bit while I quiet your beasts. 
They wouldn’t be human if they didn’t act like sin 
this weather.” 

The cowboy took the horse by the bit and began 
stroking his neck, while he talked in a very friendly 
manner. Soon he gave an unspellable chirp, and 
the horses started off briskly enough. The useful 
cowboy sprang on the steps and entered the car with 
the air of a man who is entitled to congratulations 
which he would like to avoid. 

“ Keep it,” he said, as Ruth would return the 
coat ; “I don’t need it. I got powerful warm out 
there in the weather.” 

In the West there are small towns in which the 
appearance of a company of cowboys will produce 
consternation equaled only by that which a band of 
warlike Indians inspires, but their pistol-belts are 
not always a declaration of war, their odd nick- 
names no proof that they have lost their birthright. 
Because a man wears the regulation garb of a cow- 
boy, and, following the law of nature which makes 
us all imitators, uses the American cowboy’s favor- 
ite idioms, it does not follow that his heart is un- 
kindly or his mind uncultured. The lives of many 
overworked professional men might be spared and 



In the Blizzard. 


Page 53. 








SOMETHING DIFFERENT. 


53 


strong health built up by a temporary lapse into 
such barbarism. It chiefly consists in breathing pure 
air twenty-four hours a day and in securing eight 
hours’ sound sleep all night ; against which things 
the American people seem to have conscientious 
scruples. So we have dyspepsia, consumption and 
insane asylums ; we act as though we wanted them 
all. Omaha was too large a town and held tiie fort 
in too lively recollection to be disturbed by even a 
party of dead-shot cowboys. Perhaps one might 
pause to watch them as they rode through the 
streets, their picturesque dress helping one to re- 
member that Omaha was really “ Out West.” 

The cowboy dropped into a seat. On went the 
car. Mr. Anderson busied himself in trying to 
look through the frosty window-glass, but he could 
not do it ; so he shouted to the driver, 

“ Stop at Twentieth and California streets.” 

The car came to a stop with a suddenness which 
nearly threw the people from their seats. Ruth 
thanked the cowboy for the use of his coat, and Mr. 
Anderson helped her from the car when a gust of 
wind almost swept her off her feet. Then did John 
Anderson develop the hero that was in him. Taking 
Ruth up bodily, he never stopped until he placed 


54 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


her in a warm, lighted hallway and laughingly 
said, 

“ Excuse me, Miss Irving, but extreme cases re- 
quire extreme treatment. — Mrs. Jewell, this bundle 
contains Miss Irving.” 

A kind, motherly voice welcomed Ruth and her 
escort, while firm, warm, womanly hands undid the 
wrappings which Ruth’s cold fingers could not 
manage. 


CHAPTER VI. 
RUTH’S NEXT CASE. 


“ There is no music in a rest, but there is the making of 
music in it.” 

T> UTH and her escort were thawed out by the 
register in a cheery parlor ; a sweet motherly 
voice went on the while : 

“ Mr. Anderson, I knew you would bring Miss 
Irving; I never found you to fail in any under- 
taking. — We are all so glad to have you with us, 
Miss Irving. I am afraid that Miss Phelps is very 
sick, but, now that you are with us, I am much 
encouraged. I have done all that I could do, but 
I am unused to sickness, and my family is very 
large. Miss Phelps has a blessed brother who is as 
good as nurse and grandmother all in one, but — 
Why, what a child you are ! I did not know that 
you were so young. I think it will be well for 
Miss Phelps to have with her some one who is 
near her own age.” 


55 


56 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


The last sentence was added as a disappointed 
look came over Ruth’s face. How she did wish 
that she were not so young ! 

“ Are there any more errands to be done ?” 
asked Mr. Anderson. “Be sure to let me know 
if there are, for I told Phelps that I would see 
to things, so that he need not leave his sister.” 

“ Yes, I will, Mr. Anderson,” said Mrs. Jewell ; 
“ I will call on you as often as I can. It is such a 
comfort to have an errand-boy who can be relied 
on ! But now I am going to send you away while 
we talk of Miss Phelps.” 

Mr. Anderson disappeared in the upper hall- 
way, taking Ruth’s satchel with him as he passed 
up the stairs. 

“ He is such a good-natured, thoughtful boy !” 
Mrs. Jewell remarked when the “boy” was no 
longer visible to the naked eye. 

Ruth smiled at the thought of the boy, dark- 
bearded and “ six feet two she knew that from 
force of habit Mrs. Jewell was, and always would 
be, pleased with everybody and with everything. 

The young nurse heard the particulars of the 
case, which were best given beyond the patient’s 
hearing, then she was shown up stairs and into the 


RUTH'S NEXT CASE. 


57 


sick-room. A fair, slight girl lay on a white bed ; 
her braided blond hair was thrown back over the 
pillow. From the restlessly-tossing head and the 
look of the white features, Ruth knew that there 
was much cause for anxiety. A grave-faced medi- 
cal-man sat beside the bed with his fingers on the 
sufferer’s pulse. His watch lay open on the bed ; 
he seemed oblivious to everything save the sick 
one. Opposite the doctor sat a young man who 
Ruth knew was the brother of whom Mrs. Jewell 
had spoken ; his face was manly, though his broad 
white brow, blue eyes and fair hair were much 
like those of his sister. 

The sick girl moaned in her pain. After a time 
the doctor rose and beckoned Ruth from the room ; 
in the hall he gave her directions for the night’s 
work, saying, 

“ She seems more quiet when her brother is near 
her. If she wants him, have him stay ; if not, let 
him get some rest. Miss Irving, I sent for you 
because I knew that I could trust you. You must 
not close your eyes to-night.” 

The grave-faced medical-man took himself from 
the house. He was one who never spoke unless 
he had something to say ; he knew that not a soul 


58 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


west of the Missouri River would dare question 
one of his statements or disobey his directions in a 
case of sickness. 

Ruth took the doctor’s place and began another 
of the long night-watches which had grown so 
familiar to her. An air of quiet, steadfast strength 
came over her ; she seemed years older than the 
girl who had talked nonsense with Roy Ford not 
six hours before. She thought of her lover, and 
her face grew rosy as she wondered if he ever 
would take care of her as this man was caring 
for his sister. 

The silence of the night-watch was broken only 
by the moans of the sick girl, a word or two of 
direction and the rustle as pillows were shaken. 
Morning came, but with it no change in the sick- 
room. Herbert Phelps scarcely left his sister’s side. 
Over the boarding-house settled the great stillness 
which always comes when we would keep our 
darlings back from death. Bells were muffled, 
doors softly closed ; every one thought of the 
darkened chamber and spoke and trod very softly. 
Ruth was surprised at the anxiety manifested by 
the boarders : it seemed more like a great family 
of brothers and sisters than a company of strangers 


RUTH’S NEXT CASE. 


59 


whom chance or Providence had thrown together 
under the roof of a Western boarding-house. 

Two more days of anxious watching, two more 
nights of fear and trembling ; as the third day 
closed the crisis came. They were all in the sick- 
room — the tired nurse, the motherly Mrs. Jewell, 
the anxious brother, while the solemn medical-man 
kept watch over all. The air became heavy with 
aromatic restoratives almost as soon as it entered 
the half-open window. Darkness came on. The 
members of the family tiptoed to the open door 
and looked into the room, then stole away think- 
ing that they had bidden one more friend a silent 
farewell. 

Herbert Phelps dropped on his knees beside his 
sister’s bed ; it was only for a moment, however, 
for he rose and began giving orders like a general 
ready for battle : 

“ Rub that hand, doctor. — Quick, Miss Irving ! 
Give me the ammonia;” and he worked in a 
desperately calm fashion. 

“ My boy, it can do no good,” said the medical 
oracle ; “ you only disturb her. It will all be over 
soon.” 

“ You rub that arm all the same; she is living 


60 RUTH IRVIJSIG, M. D. 

yet. Here ! use this cologne ; she likes it,” was the 
stern reply. 

So they worked over the quiet body, more in pity 
for the stricken brother than in any hope of keeping 
the sick girl with them, but they worked as only 
they who are fighting death can work. In the next 
room a strong, big-hearted man knelt and asked 
God for the life that was then fluttering through 
the white lips. 

Midnight came, and found the figure kneeling 
still, and the grave doctor said, 

“ She will live.” 

What kept this dear one back from death ? Was 
it the fervent prayer of a righteous man? Was it 
the common-sense work of the faithful brother ? or 
was it God’s way ? 

There came long days of blissful rest from pain, 
of waiting for strength, and Eva Phelps slowly re- 
turned to health. The hush remained in the house ; 
rather, all sounds were musically subdued before 
they reached the sick-room, where lights came in 
freely. The watchful brother related funny little 
anecdotes at every call, and smiles were frequent on 
the features lately drawn by pain. The brother’s 
breast-pocket seemed a storehouse for certain thick 


RUTH’S NEXT CASE. 


61 


letters wherein some one had “ scrawled strange 
words with barbarous pen.” The letters all bore 
the Denver stamp, and Herbert read them aloud 
while Ruth was gone down stairs to inquire if Mrs. 
Jewell thought that Miss Eva might drink beef-tea 
instead of milk. The letters did her more good 
than both milk and tea together. 

Herbert and Eva Phelps had been orphaned early 
in life. Their father, when dying, had given them 
with the little money that he possessed to the care 
of John Anderson’s father. Mr. Anderson was only 
a blacksmith in a quiet Vermont village, but he was 
faithful to those children. At the time of his 
father’s death Herbert was a strong boy of fourteen. 
Mr. and Mrs. Anderson consulted him about the 
future ; he said the money must all be saved for 
Eva’s needs; he too would work and help provide 
for her. He was “ hired out ” to a farmer, and, 
contrary to the usual custom — in stories — he worked 
no harder than other boys, while the farmer and 
his wife were very kind to him. Many articles of 
boys’ clothing found their way into his possession 
through the kindness of the farmer’s wife. The 
boy was well paid, and his earnings were carefully 
saved. He talked proudly of the time when he 


62 


RUTH IR VINO, M. D. 


should be able to send Eva away to school. She, 
in the mean time, lived at her guardian’s house, and 
slept, played and studied with Mary Anderson. 

When the farmer went to the little village, he 
stopped in front of the blacksmith-shop, and the 
blacksmith came out with his hammer in his hand. 
He put his foot on the hub of one of the farmer’s 
wagon-wheels ; he rested his elbow on his knee and 
his head on his hand while they talked about the 
children and their future. They said it was a pity 
to touch the money, there was so very little of it ; 
but Mr. Anderson was a poor man : he could 
scarcely afford this child’s support, although love 
and care were gladly given her. When the farmer 
came again, he brought a bag of flour and a jug of 
milk ; and again ajar of butter was in his wagon, cov~ 
ered with big pie-plant leaves to keep it cool ; again 
*t was a bag of apples, and in autumn a quarter of 
beef to be cured in thrifty New-England fashion. 
The farmer thought he did no more than his duty, 
but no doubt it is all credited to him in the big 
book up yonder. 

Eva Phelps was her brother’s idol. It was for 
her that he worked during the week ; and when he 
made her his Sunday visits, he thought her worthy 


RUTH'S NEXT CASE . 


63 


of his work and his love. Mrs. Anderson taught 
her wisely to work and save and study, as she did 
her own daughter Mary. The girls grew up, and 
u finished ” the village school. They both taught 
for a time in country towns, after which they went 
away together to a normal school, from which they 
were graduated, when they declared gayly that they 
were ready for their mission. John and Herbert 
worked and studied. They took a course in a busi- 
ness college — a trifle late in life, perhaps, but all the 
better improved ; then they too were ready for what 
the future had for them. These four young people 
had many ambitions in life, but they were all away 
from the quiet little village which they said was 
chiefly “ good to move from.” 

Kind Mr. Anderson died, and Mother Anderson 
— -just like a mother — consented to pull up the roots 
of her life and try to plant them in Western soil 
because “the children’s” dreams were all of the 
West. John, Herbert and Eva had gone in advance 
to get started ; in the spring Mother Anderson and 
Mary were to follow. 

For years John Anderson had seen visions and 
dreamed dreams; he told himself that as soon as 
he was started in business in the West he should 


64 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


tell Eva all about them. But another young man 
had gone West; from far-off Denver he sent back 
thick letters, and Eva developed a wonderful inter- 
est in the workings of the United States mail- 
service. 

Soon after our young people were settled in 
Omaha, Eya received a little box which contained 
Colorado gold wrought in shape fatal to all John 
Anderson’s dreams. He told himself that she 
never should know ; he tried to treat her as of 
old and not grow crabbed over his trouble. He 
told himself that when he saw Eva as Fred Fenn’s 
wife he could give up his love for her ; honor and 
pride would both come to his aid. No; John 
Anderson was not the sort of man to desire 
another man’s wife. He thought he could over- 
come himself. He entrenched himself behind a 
breastwork of formality and called her “Miss 
Phelps,” which hurt her not a little, for she re- 
garded John as a brother. She never dreamed that 
the shining circle of Colorado gold caused the differ- 
ence in his manner ; she did not guess that it was 
only because of John’s great-heartedness that peace 
was not at an end between them. And John ? 
He had hid his love for years ; he went on hiding 


RUTH'S NEXT CASE. 


65 


it, saying to himself over and over again, “ She 
never shall know.” It was like weaving a rope 
of sand. 

When Eva was taken sick, John had learned 
that, as Eva Phelps or as Eva Fenn, she was to 
him for ever different from all other women. It 
would be easier to see the slim hands folded away 
for ever than to see them given to another. If 
Eva died, then she would always be his — his pure 
love of youth and manhood. He accused himself 
of feelings akin to murder, and struggled with a 
love stronger and purer than is often given to 
women. The night of the crisis he had conquered, 
and prayed that Eva might live — yes, live for Fred 
Fenn. No one called John Anderson a hero or 
dreamed of this victory of peace. 

Kindly Mrs. Jewell was on the watch for oppor- 
tunities to do something for the sick girl’s comfort 
or to lighten the young nurse’s care. It seemed to 
Ruth that Mrs. Jewell’s strongest characteristic was 
motherliness. Ah ! she had an ever-present memory 
of certain small graves on a Pennsylvania hillside ; 
because of the memory, her heart was very tender 
toward all young people. Then the soul comes 
nearer the surface in the new country. Eva Phelps, 

5 


66 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


living in a Western boarding-house, her brother 
the only family tie the world held, was rich in care 
and tenderness. She may never realize the “ music 
in the rest” which came unbidden into her life, 
but it brought out the sweet chord of much unself- 
ish thoughtfulness. 

Euth became known to nearly all the boarders 
in those first days of suspense ; every one felt free 
to speak to her, for there was always the question 
to be asked, “ How is Miss Phelps now ?” Per- 
haps she was not regularly introduced to them 
all ; some forms and ceremonies had been omitted, 
and the universe was unmoved thereby. John 
Anderson seemed to feel responsible for her com- 
fort in the house, and offered his services in the 
matter of errands. Euth made him the bearer of 
certain notes, to which there came prompt replies. 
She liked this new friend very much, but the look 
of patient endurance and self-repression did not 
pass from his face as Eva’s danger lessened. Euth 
could find no good reason for his weary look. 

As for John Anderson, he regarded this dark- 
eyed nurse as one of God’s good angels, for was 
not she caring for Eva Phelps? 


CHAPTER VII. 

A WESTERN BOARDING-HOUSE. 


“We may live without poetry, music or art, 

We may live without conscience, we may live without heart, 
We may live without friends, we may live without books ; 
But civilized man cannot live without cooks.” 

rTlHE martyrs of this world are numerous, and 
among those most frequently buffeted for their 
faults are boarding-house keepers. They have no 
rest from their labors ; boarders think it pretty to 
growl, and newspaper-people echo their clamor. 
Even the little girl in the story said, “ We don’t 
live : we board.” 

Boarding-house hash is not calculated to inspire 
confidence ; stale bread lives again in puddings that 
are deplorable ; boarding-house biscuit proverbially 
abound in soda. On the very top of all this an 
Eastern preacher adds the weight of his testimony 
against an institution which we cannot do without. 
Doubtless there is much gossip and bad taste to be 


68 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


endured, but these things must needs be when one’s 
own household gods refuse to be set up. God has 
not yet set the solitary in families, and it would 
sometimes go hard with them if he had, for there 
are not cooks enough now to go around. 

In the new country Mrs. Jewell had clad herself 
in widow’s weeds and looked about her for some 
means of support. She said, “ My talent is home- 
making : I will take boarders, and I will do it 
well.” And she did. She gathered a company of 
young people about her and made a home for them. 
They were workers, young men and women who 
had purposes in life. By their own energy and 
merit they meant to gain honorable places in that 
young city. Satan never entered one of their hearts 
through a stomach made dyspeptic at Mrs. Jewell’s 
table. So it was good will and good cheer, broad- 
souled living of vigorous lives, and in a boarding- 
house. Who shall gainsay it? 

Eva Phelps slept soundly at dinner-time one 
day when Ruth had been a week in the house. 
Hannah, the Swedish damsel from below stairs, 
crept softly into the room and said in a high 
tenor whisper, 

“ Mrs. Jewell she say you vas to come to eat ; I 


A WESTERN BOARDING-HOUSE. 


69 


vas to stay wiv the sheek lady. Oh my ! she vas 
so sheek !” 

Before this Buth had caught her meals as it hap- 
pened — sometimes before, sometimes after, the oth- 
ers ; sometimes with one or two boarders, sometimes 
alone with Mrs. Jewell. She freshened her toilet 
and went down stairs. She found the boarders all 
seated at the dinner-table ; they greeted her so cor- 
dially that she felt at home immediately. 

A chair next to Mr. Phelps was vacant ; he drew 
it back, saying, 

“ Miss Irving, come and take Eva’s place.” 

“ That is right, Mr. Phelps,” said Mrs. Jewell as 
she brought in Buth’s soup ; “ you must be an 
apostle to Miss Irving. It is pleasant to have her 
down here with the rest of us.” 

Then John Anderson spoke up : 

“ I should like to inquire if the Anti-Pun Enter- 
prise is yet in existence ; if so, is it alive ?” 

“I judge that it is alive and healthy,” said 
Charlie Hills : “ I see the president is making a 
lively attack on that chicken.” 

“ Hear ! hear !” cried Mr. Phelps. “ The A.-P. 
E. will please come to order. The treasurer will 
collect the usual fine of Mr. Hills.” 


70 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Miss Fleming held out her hand, and Mr. Hills 
produced a nickel, which was passed from one to 
another, like the fare in a crowded street-car. 

“ One punster punished,” was John Anderson’s 
comment. 

“ Yes, won by one,” laughed Miss Quick. 

“ Hold !” said Charlie Hills ; “ we are punning 
too quick.” 

“ Have mercy on yourself, Charlie my boy,” said 
Mr. Phelps. “ There is too much hilarity here 
to-day.” 

After this brilliant remark, Miss Fleming col- 
lected four more nickels. She laid them beside her 
plate, and said gravely, 

“ Mr. President.” 

“ Miss Fleming,” said Mr. Phelps, with a low 
bow. 

“ Mr. President, we have a stranger with us. I 
move that Mr. Anderson be appointed a committee 
of one to explain the purpose and workings of the 
institution known as the A.-P. E.” 

“ I second that motion,” said Mr. Hills. 

The motion was carried as by one voice. 

Ruth was interested and curious. The eyes of all 
the A.-P. E. were upon John Anderson ; his face 


A WESTERN BOARDING-HOUSE. 


71 


flushed hotly, for he was a man who could blush. 
He gave Miss Fleming a look which meant several 
things, and began : 

“ Miss Irving remembers an old copy-book which 
says, ‘ Thou shalt not pun and again, ‘ To pun is 
vulgar, and, verily, vulgarity is worse than wicked- 
ness/ Now, certain members of this happy family 
were given over to the forbidden practice, and ‘ there 
are few greater bores than an inveterate punster/ 
The spirit of true philanthropy prompted certain 
others to labor to reclaim these erring brothers; with 
this end in view, the A.-P. E. was organized. The 
most important article of our constitution provides 
that each member of the Enterprise shall be fined 
one nickel for every pun he perpetrates on a peace- 
ful and long-suffering community. The treasurer 
is empowered to enforce this law without regard to 
‘race, color or previous condition of servitude/ 
The afore-mentioned nickels are to go toward 
Christmas festivities. Miss Fleming is our honored 
secretary and treasurer, and Mr. Phelps our gifted 
president. The constitution and by-laws are sup- 
posed to be properly framed and attached — by a 
brass chain — to the collar of our president’s office- 
dog.” 


72 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


The explanation was accepted ; the president bore 
the office-dog part with a very good grace. 

Talk went on, and fun, subdued with careful 
thought of the sick-room, but happy and thankful 
withal. John Anderson meditated on how he might 
punish Miss Fleming without hurting her. 

Miss Fleming understood the mysteries of short- 
hand ; she also manipulated a type- writer in a law- 
yer’s office down town. Perhaps that accounted for 
the alarming quickness of her wits and her skill in 
saying things. Yet she was sweet and unspoiled ; 
she quarreled vigorously with every one of the 
boarders, but would defend every one still more 
vigorously, and she was always good-natured. She 
delighted in tormenting John Anderson ; she knew 
that he could take care of himself, and that he never 
would grow impatient or say anything that would 
make her feel that she might have been a little rude. 
There were many friendly battles fought around and 
across this boarding-house table, but playing tricks 
on John Anderson was the safest, most interesting 
amusement. 

“ Through two long weeks I shall sigh in vain 
for these good things,” said John Anderson as 
Mrs. Jewell brought in the dessert. 


A WESTERN BOARDING-HOUSE . 73 

“ Why so? Are you going away ?” Mrs. Jewell 
questioned. 

“ Are you going away ?” came in a chorus from 
the boarders. 

u Only for a little while,” he replied ; “ fate — or 
the company as the representative of fate — sends 
me out for a short trip. I shall be at home before 
Christmas.” 

“Yes,” said Charlie Hills, “you go away and 
pun to your heart’s content, and then come back to 
our Christmas doings as though you had stayed at 
home and paid fines like a Christian.” 

“No, Johnny; that will never do,” said Mr. 
Phelps. 

With much laughter and nonsense it was decided 
that Mr. Anderson should write a long letter once 
in four days ; said letters were to be long enough 
to make amends for taking himself beyond the 
reach of fines. The letters were to be addressed 
to Mrs. Jewell, as she was an honorary member 
of the A.-P. E. 

Mr. Anderson excused the boarders from answer- 
ing his letters with a cheerfulness which surprised 
them : 

“ Yes, I will send you a full account of my ex- 


74 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


periences, but I do not wish to hear any remarks 
on my use of the first person singular.” 

“ My dear boy,” said Mr. Hills, “ use the capital 
* 1 9 as much as you wish. We are all pining to 
know more about you.” 

Dinner was over ; the members of the Anti-Pun 
Enterprise went their several ways. Ruth returned 
to her charge; she felt that the earth was bigger 
and broader than ever before. It seemed to her as 
though she had known these people for a thousand 
years. 

That afternoon the Swedish damsel announced 
that some one wished to see Miss Irving in the 
parlor. The “ some one” proved to be John 
Anderson. In his hand he carried several stamped 
envelopes already addressed to himself at different 
towns in the State. Would Miss Irving write notes 
telling of Miss Phelps’s welfare and slip them into 
the envelopes and put them in the letter-box? 
The envelopes were all carefully numbered, that 
she might know in what order to use them. Would 
she write every day, and not say one word about it 
to the others ? She could save him so much anxiety. 
Would she give those roses to Miss Eva, with his 
very best wishes ? 


A WESTERN BOARDING-HOUSE. 


75 


Yes, Ruth would do all this, and be very 
much interested in doing it. She knew nothing 
of the thick letters in the brother’s pocket; she 
knew nothing of the old days in Vermont or of the 
hopes crushed by the broad band of Colorado gold ; 
but she remembered the look in John Anderson’s 
eyes as he asked her to go with him through the 
storm for Eva’s sake. She hid the envelopes and 
told Eva that Mr. Anderson had gone away, but 
had left her his very best wishes and a cluster of 
lovely roses. 

“ I hope he will have a pleasant trip. I shall 
be almost well when he returns,” said Eva; but 
her thoughts were not for John Anderson. There 
was a thick letter under her pillow, and she asked 
Ruth to answer it for her. She tried to dictate the 
letter, but it is hard for any one to dictate that kind 
of a letter. 

Ruth, being possessed of much common sense — 
which is an excellent thing in a woman — wrote the 
letter out of her own head and allowed her patient 
to write just five short words at the end. She 
slipped the letter into the green United States mail- 
box fastened to a lamp-post on the corner; she 
thought of the other letters she was to place there, 


76 


RUTH IRVING , M. I). 


and sighed. Things were not to her mind. She 
liked both John Anderson and Eva Phelps, but 
she had no use for that man in Denver. Some 
way, he would not fit into any of her plans. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE TRAVELING-MAN. 

11 Men must be busy out of doors — must stir 
The city. Yea, make the great world aware 
That they are in it.” 

A PUFFING engine, a long line of freight- 
cars with one baggage- and one passenger-car 
attached, followed the serpentine track which wound 
itself around and among the mounds or hillocks of 
the rolling prairie. This was a branch road. In 
the morning a train took people and produce to the 
main line ; at night another long train took settlers 
and speculators to the front. 

The train was known as the way freight and ac- 
commodation train ; freight was plentiful, but there 
was very little accommodation about the train, the 
passengers thought. As to its occupants, the passen- 
ger-coach might have been taken for a representative 
car. There were settlers even in December. There 
was an old farmer from “ Down East ” going “ Out 

77 


78 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


West ” to see his married daughter ; he was garru- 
lous with wonder over the general bigness of things. 
There were a cattle-man, a corn-man and an ordinary 
business-man. The woman with the baby was there, 
also the pretty girl traveling alone. There was a 
tyro in the home-missionary business — an honest, 
blundering sort of a man, slow-spoken and long- 
sermoned ; he might have tried to be as “ harmless 
as a dove,” but he was not as wise as a serpent. 
He had been a failure in the East ; now he would 
try to evangelize the West. That is about the most 
hopeless task that a man of his stamp can under- 
take ; however, on the morrow he was to preach his 
first sermon to Western people. He felt nervous, 
and thought over his sermon as the light began to 
fade. He should have studied the human nature 
that the car contained, but this man never had 
studied human nature; he knew that the human 
heart is deceitful above all things and desperately 
wicked. No, he did not care to know human nature 
as it is; he theorized about what it ought to be. 
As a natural consequence, he lacked sympathy, force 
and personal magnetism. His favorite mode of 
correcting an evil was “ frowning down upon it 
from the pulpit.” He frowned down upon the peo- 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


79 


pie in that car, for the traveling-man was there — 
several of his class, in fact. They bestowed them- 
selves and their sample-cases with as much regard 
for comfort as possible, and kept things lively most 
of the time. One traveling-man entertained the old 
farmer, one read The Commercial Traveler , some 
played cards, and they all shocked the new mission- 
ary. I shall not call him “ the wicked traveling- 
man ” nor tell you of his sins, neither will I make 
affidavit that he is perfect ; but then the President and 
his Cabinet are not without reproach. When the 
manliness of the world is sized up, as much whole- 
souled manhood will be found among traveling-men 
as in the same number of pounds avoirdupois men 
of other callings. The traveling-man faces as many 
temptations in twenty-four hours as the old-time 
New England village deacon met in five years. 
The traveling-man plays cards ; so do other people. 
He will flirt with the pretty girl in the next seat, 
but he will kiss the picture of his wife and baby 
before he sleeps. He “ trades lies ” with other trav- 
eling-men, and then turns to help an old lady down 
the car steps. He takes a fifteen-cent lunch, 
charges his firm with a seventy-five cent dinner, 
and gives the other sixty cents to a cripple. 


80 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Night shut down ; it grew too dark to play cards, 
and not quite dark enough to compel the brakeman 
to light the lamps. The train stopped at a station, 
and there was a slight change in the population of 
the car. One of the new-comers slapped a travel- 
ing-man on his shoulder and said heartily, 

“ I say, Anderson ! wake up ! Who expected to 
see you here ? How is Omaha ?” 

Anderson shook the new-comer’s hand, made 
room in the seat for him and helped stow away his 
luggage, saying all the while, 

“ Hello ! how do you do ? Omaha is all right. 
Where have you been ? How is everything on the 
road?” 

“ Where have I been ? I have been to Greenland. 
I mean the northern part of this State. Had the 
worst blizzard up there that I ever have had the 
luck to strike.” 

“ How cold was it ?” asked the old farmer, who 
was taking notes. 

“ It was so cold that the thermometers all froze up,” 
said the traveler, regardless of a Hereafter. “ Why, 
when a man talked, his words would stay frozen in 
the air for hours. You could read the air like 
print, only you had to begin at the other end of 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


81 


the line. — Say, boys, what is the matter? What 
makes this train run so slowly?” 

“ My dear friend,” said one of the group who 
had been playing cards, “ let me correct you. There 
was a slight error in the wording of your question. 
This train does not run : it never learned how. 
It still creeps.” 

“ I accept the amendment,” said the other, good- 
naturedly. “ But what is the matter ?” 

“ I allow it is because the road is so crooked 
that the engineer is afraid he will run off the 
track if he goes too fast,” suggested a drummer 
from Milwaukee. . 

“They tell me that a brakeman walks ahead 
with a lantern of a dark night,” said Mr. Ander- 
son. 

“ Well, I never !” was all the old farmer could 
say. 

The home missionary was breathless with amaze- 
ment over such wholesale prevarication. What 
awful liars those men were ! or if by chance it was 
truth they were telling, he must be moving into a 
strange kind of country. Any way, he did not 
approve of such talk ; he would frown down upon 
it from the pulpit the very next day. His medita- 
6 


82 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


tions were cut short by the brakeman, who yelled 
the name of a station in some unknown tongue. 
The missionary, a traveler for a Troy stove-house, 
a Chicago grocer, an Omaha drygoods-man, a 
St. Louis cigar-man, a St. Joseph tea-traveler and 
John Anderson left the car to try the realities of 
life in a Western hotel. The train was drawn up 
by a low Western station ; an open wagon with 
lengthwise seats stood by the long platform, and 
the hotel-emissary shouted blithely : 

“ Right this way for the Commercial Hotel. 
Best hotel in the city ! Just been refitted ! Terms 
reasonable !” 

The new arrivals all went to the Commercial 
Hotel. 

“ Western hotels are not the worst places in the 
world in which to spend a Sunday.” So John 
Anderson reflected as he sat at the breakfast-table 
next morning. He stirred his coffee and gazed, or 
tried to gaze, into its murky depths. The other 
traveling-men were at the table ; so was the home 
missionary, who had already begun the process of 
“ frowning down” upon the traveling-men. Ob- 
serving which, they immediately put themselves on 


the traveling-man. 


83 


the defensive and told their biggest stories with a 
view to shocking him still more. 

John Anderson’s soul was troubled; he was a 
man who kept one day in seven as sacred to the 
Lord, and he saw very little prospect of anything 
of the kind being done about him. He was not a 
patient man by nature; he had thoroughly pom- 
meled his enemies in his school-days — had doubt- 
less gotten himself into many unnecessary fights. 
Sometimes his eyes still showed that a great deal 
of temper was being held in check, but the temper 
seldom mastered him. He had grown as awkward 
and almost as tall as our honored Lincoln, while 
Eva Phelps was a mere slip of a child. The 
contrast between his unwieldy self and her fairy lit- 
tle body was a constant incentive to gentleness on 
his part. At last he thought that because of his 
great strength he must be very gentle with his 
fellows. There had been long years in which he 
had tried to train and refine himself into a type 
of manhood which he considered worthy of Eva 
Phelps ; now the strength of his love for her had 
been tested and he knew that he had given her up, 
yet for her sake, if not for his own and because he 
did love her, he kept his standard of manhood very 


84 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


high. At least, he would remain worthy of her. Un- 
consciously she had been the guide of his life, but 
for the first time in all his years he dreaded to meet 
her. How could he bear to see her weak and help- 
less and know that his great strength could do for 
her only what any ordinary friend might do ? This 
was not weakness. John Anderson was not senti- 
mental above his kind ; he was glad when the firm 
sent him off to pick up some of the loose ends of 
their business. Yes, he would go away and think 
it all over. When he got away, thinking it over 
was the very last thing which he wanted to do. 
He looked around on the conflicting elements as 
he sat in the hotel, and made up his mind to bring 
about something like a proper observance of the 
day, in spite of the traveling-man or the preacher. 
Moreover, he decided that each one of the travelers 
should think that “ keeping Sunday ” had been his 
own idea. 

Before the meal was eaten the travelers’ spirits had 
bubbled over in decided irreverence. The minister 
left the room horrified at so much ungodliness. 
He did not try in any w r ay to conciliate his com- 
panions ; frowning down upon them was a part of 
his creed. 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


85 


u I allow they spoiled a pretty good hod-carrier 
when they made a preacher out of him,” said the 
man from St. Joseph as the missionary left the 
room. 

“ I don’t go much on these preachers,” said the 
man from Chicago. 

“ I say, boys ! let’s stand by a man that is just 
beginning,” suggested John Anderson. 

“ That’s so ! I reckon I should have gone to 
hear him preach if he had treated us halfway 
white,” said the man from St. Louis. 

“ We might go around and hear what he has to 
say, just the same,” said Mr. Anderson. He knew 
that his scheme, if it were to be successful, must be 
worked up very quietly. 

“ I don’t know as there is anything better to do 
in this town,” said the man from Chicago. “ I do 
go to church when I am in Omaha. I have 
forgotten why I went the first time, but the preach- 
er prayed for strangers, and he put in such a good 
word for us fellows that I try on that church every 
chance I can get.” 

u This old duffer is not that style of a man,” ob- 
served the man from Troy. 

After much more talk of this sort the men agreed 


86 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


upon a verdict which in the cold and uncultured 
language of the West was this : 

“ We will go around and help give him a good 
send-off.” 

The six commercial-men made careful toilets and 
walked to the mission church. The spirit of mis- 
chief was all gone. They would join in the hymns 
and be reverent in prayer-time ; they would listen 
to the sermon with respectful attention ; the collec- 
tion-plate should not pass them by unnoticed. Do 
not imagine that they listened to a pipe-organ or 
trod three-ply carpets or rested their eyes on soft 
frescoes. The church-building stood on posts, as 
did most Western buildings of that date. The 
church-members were growing up with the coun- 
try ; they could not afford to put a brick founda- 
tion under their house of worship. They sat upon 
uncushioned seats, they gazed at roughly- plastered 
walls, they did their own singing. 

The new preacher, embarrassed and fearful from 
the first, was ten times more fearful when he saw 
his tormentors of the morning. He remembered 
the awful lies they had told, and the remembrance 
nearly overcame him ; but he rallied and preached 
an exhaustive sermon on future punishment, firing 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


87 


it all at the traveling-men. The Presbytery may 
decide that they needed it, but you can win more 
hearts by the story of the place called “ Calvary ” than 
by any picture of the punishments of hell, real as they 
are. The warm, outstretched hand is grasped sooner 
than the clenched fist. The new missionary lost one 
more chance to reach these men. They walked 
very quietly back to the hotel, and some of them 
played a game which the new missionary did not 
understand. On the whole, this did not seem much 
like a Christian Sunday. The landlord had some 
ideas on the subject, and prohibited card-playing in 
the public office. The drummers went to the St. 
Louis man’s room, and proceeded with their game. 

John Anderson had ideas of his own on the 
whole subject. The door of the family sitting-room 
had stood open as he went to breakfast ; that open 
door revealed a way out of many of the difficulties. 
The way led to a very pretty cabinet organ, and he 
set out upon it at once. He listened to the landlord’s 
political and religious views ; then he skillfully turn- 
ed the subject to advertising and advertising cards. 
He said he had some nice cards in his gripsack; 
he thought the little girl would like them. Before 
dinner was over he gained the entire confidence of 


88 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


the twelve-year-old daughter of the house ; he also 
discovered that she had no older sister. The little 
woman invited him into the sitting-room, and he 
asked her to play for him. No ; she could not play. 
Papa bought the organ only last week; soon she 
was to take lessons. Could he play? Would he 
try her new organ? 

“ Yes, I play a little sometimes,” said Mr. 
Anderson as meekly as though he had not worked 
two hours for that invitation. 

The reverend gentleman was invisible ; the trav- 
eling-men up stairs played poker. The little woman 
opened the hall door — for the sitting-room was 
warm — and John Anderson played “ Home, Sweet 
Home.” He was not a scientific organist, but he 
possessed a good voice and an “ ear for music.” He 
had attended singing-schools from his childhood up, 
and had tormented his sister while she practiced her 
music-lessons ; therefore he played his own accom- 
paniment fairly well. He was not skillful enough 
to make very common people afraid of him. He 
used the new organ to the best possible advan- 
tage, and sang : 

“ Some day I’ll wander back again 
To where the old home stands.” 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


89 


The small -boy of the house — always ready for 
something new — came before the first verse was fin- 
ished ; the second brought the proprietor, his wife 
and the baby, also some of the regular boarders. 
They all begged for another song, and John sang 
that tender home-song written by Cyrus M. Bar- 
ber : 


LEAVING MY HILLSIDE HOME. 
I sat beside a flowing spring 
Where I had often sat before ; 

I heard the feathered songsters sing 
Songs I could hope to hear no more, 

For I must leave that cherished spot, 

That cooling spring and shady grove : 
Its joys could never be forgot 
Though in a distant land I rove. 

CHORUS. 

My hillside home ! oh, cherished spot 
Where memory lingers oft and long ! 
Thy joys will never be forgot ; 

Of thee I’ll sing my sweetest song. 

I left that spring, but other springs 
I’ve found, with water just as clear, 

But, ah ! one thought my memory stings : 

I cannot find a home so dear, 

For there the friends of childhood dwell, 
Those dear by nature’s purest ties : 


90 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Though other friends their love may tell, 

Yet when they’re gone their friendship dies. 

I left that home : a mother’s tear 

Stood on her cheek and spoke her love ; 

The hopeful face of sister dear 

Expressed a love no word could prove ; 

And father, as we knelt in prayer 
Around the hearth so strangely still, 

Asked God that his almighty care 
Might keep their boy from every ill. 

So the influence of that pure home on the hill- 
side reached out and surrounded those sojourners 
in a Western hotel. The singer, well pleased with 
his success in rivaling the game of poker, sung 
on. The next song was, 

“ Mother, is the old home lonely — 

Lonely to you night and day ?” 

When it was finished, the drummer from St. 
Joseph cried, 

“ I say, Anderson ! for mercy’s sake quit sing- 
ing that kind of song ! I reckon they are mighty 
nice for a man who has a home, but they are rough 
on a fellow who has none.” 

The traveling-man made vigorous use of his 
handkerchief, while the preacher, up stairs, went 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


91 


on overhauling a sermon on total depravity with a 
view to meeting the wants of these men. 

They hunted up all the sheet-music the house 
contained ; the little woman borrowed three copies 
of Gospel Hymns ; the man from Chicago owned 
that he had some sheet-music in his gripsack, and 
was required to produce the same. A local genius 
agreed to play accompaniments; so the Chicago 
drummer and John Anderson made a figure eleven 
of themselves while they sung “ Larboard Watch.” 
Then John Anderson willed that the St. Louis man 
and the Chicago man sing “ What are the Wild 
Waves Saying?” after which, the Chicago drummer 
sang Longfellow’s “ Rainy Day.” 

The traveling-man from Troy suggested that 
they sing some “ Sunday tunes.” The scheming 
John, wise in human memories and human nature, 
knew that some one would make that suggestion, 
and that whoever made it would take credit to 
himself for having made a praiseworthy remark ; 
so the Gospel Hymns were in demand, and they 
swelled a grand chorus. Time would fail me to 
name all their songs. 

At last the Chicago drummer’s rich baritone 
rang out grandly in “Not Ashamed of Christ.” 


92 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


The missionary, up stairs, listened in amazement, 
then went on with the preparation of his sermon ; 
but he lost one more chance of reaching these men, 
and many of the town’s people besides, for passers 
by, hearing the music, filled the little hallway and 
the office beyond. Everybody wondered why the 
new preacher was not with the singers. 

All honor to the home missionaries ! They are 
the bravest soldiers of our time. We need more 
of them this very hour. From the heights of the 
future all coming generations will look down on 
their victories of peace. The West needs brave 
men — men with great, broad souls, men who under- 
stand human nature and are sympathetic and full 
of true love for their fellow-men. We want men 
Avho see in every man a brother — a soul to be 
lost or a soul to be won ; men who believe that 
every heart has one sweet chord even in the midst 
of half a dozen conflicting beliefs or of total un- 
belief; men who are instant in season and out 
of season, for the circumstances of Western life fre- 
quently throw people into close companionship one 
day and the next they part for ever. 

The future of the country depends greatly on 
our home missionaries. The story of the Nazarene 


THE TRAVELING-MAN. 


93 


must be told to thousands of heathen within our 
own borders ; honest doubt must be met with 
Christian evidences : the vulgar scoffing which 
makes fun of the Bible will defeat itself. We want 
men of sanctified common sense and with warm, 
cheery ways ; men who in their own lives and very 
faces represent and image forth the sweetness and 
the gracious love of God. In proportion as such 
soldiers of the cross go to the front, we may dis- 
miss our standing army, for we shall be gaining 
victories of peace. 

Cultured East, keep your smartest lawyers if you 
will — keep your tonguiest agents; but when you 
send us ministers, send us your best, your truest 
and most Christlike men. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 

“ It isn’t the funniest thing a man can do — 

Existing in a country when it’s new.” 

mHE Anti-Pun Enterprise was seated about the 
dinner-table. After the dessert had been fin- 
ished, President Phelps called the meeting to order 
and read John Anderson’s first letter : 

“ Commercial Hotel, Nineveh, Neb., 

“ Dec. 13, 18—. 

“ The Anti-Pun Enterprise, Omaha, Neb. : 

“ My Dear Friends : I have attended to busi- 
ness, eaten my supper, and now I am ready to 
devote the remainder of the evening to letter- 
writing. 

“ Ah, this lovely stillness ! The only sounds I 
hear which come from anything human arise from 
the bar-room, below. I hear something like this : 
“ ‘ What’s trump ?’ 

94 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 


95 


“ ‘ Oh, I got high, low, Jack and the game.’ 

u Emerson says something like this : ‘ All men 
in the abstract are just and good; what hinders 
them in the particular is the momentary predomi- 
nance of the finite and individual/ The people 
below seem to have a severe attack of the ‘ finite 
and individual/ also of tobacco ; for that bar-room 
smells up to my room. I came near forgetting to 
state that a baby’s clarion voice looms up above the 
other sounds in good style. 

“ This is a fine town in which to see real life as 
it exists on the eastern border of the Great Ameri- 
can Desert. As yet I have discovered no church 
in this place of nearly a thousand inhabitants. 
Steamboats come up here, and the river-man and 
the railroad-man and the traveling-man keep things 
lively most of the time. Just at present burglar- 
izing seems to be the order of the day — or, rather, 
of the night. If I am not stolen from my downy 
couch before morning, I shall have cause for thanks- 
giving. 

“ I had some experience last night. You noticed 
that the weather was quite cold. I thought it might 
be a proper scheme to have a room that was well 
warmed, so I ordered one with a stove in it. 


RUTH IRVIN 0, M. D. 


96 


Mine host said, ‘ All right !” and I supposed that 
I had a warm nest waiting, for me. About ten 
o’clock I went up stairs I found it all wrong. 
It was true that I had a room with a stove in 
it, but there was no fire in the stove. The coldness 
was so dense that it seemed almost as if you could 
cut it with a knife. I sought the proprietor and re- 
ferred to my petition for a fire. 

“ ‘ You have a room with a stove in it/ he said, 
blandly, ‘ but I have no coal for extra fires. More- 
over, there is none in town.’ 

“ Such is the gratitude of man ! for be it known 
that I had just helped him out of a great trouble. 
While I was sitting in the office trading lies with 
another traveling-man the proprietor came into the 
room and said to me, 

“ ‘ Will you not go into the parlor and play on 
the organ a little while?’ 

“ I asked him why, and he said, 

" ‘ There is a young man in there who wants to 
sit up with one of my girls, and I don’t want him to. 
I thought if you would play, and so help occupy 
the room, maybe he would go away.’ 

“ I charged him with hinting that my playing was 
not first class, but he said that he did not mean 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 97 

anything ; so I let him off. I told him to take a 
blanket and a pillow into the parlor, and say that he 
thought he should have to put a man in there on 
the couch. Mine host smiled very sweetly, and 
went away. Soon he returned ; he said the scheme 
worked like a charm, and promptly set up the 
cigars. The next thing he did was to send me to a 
cold room, but his conscience smote him, and I had 
a bed on that parlor couch, after all. (To be con- 
tinued.) 

“ Yours truly, 

“John Andekson. 

“ P. S. I hope Miss Eva is still gaining strength ? 

“ J. A.” 

Ruth carried the letter up stairs and read it to 
Eva Phelps. 

“I wonder that traveling-men do not all die 
from the changes and exposure they are obliged to 
endure,” said Eva. “I hope John took no hurt 
from his ‘experience/ as he terms it.” With this 
benevolent wish she dismissed John Anderson from 
her mind ; she thought no more of him for hours. 

There was another thick letter to be answered ; 
after which, Ruti* made out one of the promised 
7 


98 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


bulletins and slipped it into one of the carefully- 
hidden envelopes. 

A friendship was growing up between Ruth 
Irving and Eva Phelps ; their close companionship 
and the difference in their natures made this result 
almost certain. Eva gained strength rapidly ; there 
was talk of an easy-chair and a wrapper for her in the 
near future. Ruth’s gay laugh and bright nonsense 
were heard in the sick-room, and in part accounted 
for the rapid improvement in the patient; her 
quiet nature needed the spur of Ruth’s business- 
like ways. Dainty Eva unconsciously gave Ruth 
many of the refining touches which never before 
had come into her busy life. The grave-faced 
doctor came less and less frequently, and when he 
did come took no credit to himself that Eva’s life 
was spared. He regarded Herbert Phelps as a 
model brother ; for the rest he took refuge behind 
the rampart of professional reticence. 

Kindly Mrs. Jewell was the power behind Ruth’s 
fate that afternoon ; the good woman declared that 
they had kept the young nurse housed too closely, 
and willed that Ruth go out in pursuit of oxygen. 
The motherly woman made much pretence of haste 
as she helped Ruth put on Jier cloak, declaring 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 


99 


gayly that the patient should be ten degrees better 
by the time night came and the nurse came back to the 
boarding-house. Two white letters were snuggled 
close in Ruth’s pocket; they told each other no 
secrets, for they were on their way to men separated 
as by a great gulf in that they both loved the same 
woman. 

There is no brush nor pen which can do justice to 
the glory of a clear winter day on the plains. No 
canvas can catch the coloring, no book imprison 
the inspiration. Ruth, with her hopes and am- 
bitions, was just in sympathy with the rushing life 
seen in the streets of that young city. “ Business 
was booming.” Everybody acted as though he were 
going somewhere and had an object in going to that 
particular place. 

Ruth hurriedly turned a corner to avoid meeting 
a drove of broncho ponies which were being driven 
into the city to be sold into captivity. The ponies 
walked along with their heads down, never showing 
a sign of the curiosity with which country-dwellers 
usually enter a city. Neither did they manifest 
that spirit of total depravity which is popularly 
attributed to broncho ponies. The ponies, with 
their herders clad in heavy shirts, buckskin breeches, 


100 


RUTH [R VINO, M. D. 


long boots, Mexican sombreros, and with long las- 
soes wound around the saddle-pommel, helped to 
give the scene a touch of the picturesque only at- 
tained by Eastern cities on circus-day. 

Ruth found Dr. Ross at home and ready to de- 
vote a few minutes to chatting. Soon Mr. Ford 
called. He said that he had seen Miss Irving on 
the street ; he had come around to inquire after the 
sick. The three spent an hour of merry nonsense 
interspersed with occasional gleams of sense; then 
Ruth must go back to her charge. Mr. Ford 
walked home with her. 

Busy Sixteenth street is a good place for talking ; 
no one will listen to your confidences. It was a 
cold December twilight when Ruth rang the bell 
at Mrs. Jewell's, but she would have told you that 
it was “ right warm out." She felt that in the 
strength of that walk and talk she could work 
many days. 

The next day was one to be marked with a red 
letter : Eva Phelps took a few trembling steps and 
sat for an hour in the great easy-chair. The Anti- 
Pun Enterprise made wretched puns, as in the good 
old days before the Society for the Prevention of 
Puns. Nickels accumulated rapidly, and Miss 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 


101 


Fleming professed much anxiety as to window- 
fasteners. The people at the boarding-house made 
many plans for the coming Christmas and the dis- 
position of the shining nickels. They talked of 
Christmas decoration and commented on evergreen, 
ground-pine, holly and mistletoe as freely as though 
they lived in New England. Everybody promised 
to reform after the holidays ; no puns should be tol- 
erated then. Secrets were plentiful and hard to 
keep. 

The short days passed swiftly, and in due time 
John Anderson’s second letter came before the 
Anti-Pun Enterprise : 

“Commercial Hotel, Oakdale, Neb., 
“Dec. 17, 18—. 

“The Anti-Pun Enterprise — 

“ My Dear Friends : Now that I have found 
myself again, I will write another of the promised 
letters. You must know that I lost myself on the 
Santee Sioux Indian reservation. This reservation 
occupies the central part of Knox County and lies 
about midway between the border-towns of Niobrara 
and Herrick. I am not sure as to the size of the 
reserve, but I think it is about twenty miles square. 


102 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


In their palmy days the Sioux Indians were lords 
of all this part of the country, but Indians are 
only human, after all, and the Sioux did not agree 
among themselves. The tribe was divided, and the 
red men now known as the Santee Sioux took the 
lowlands, while the rest retreated to the moun- 
tains. 

“ It was my business to visit the towns of Nio- 
brara and Herrick. Last Tuesday morning a man 
named John Hanson and myself left the town of 
Creighton, which is the railroad-town nearest the 
places we wished to visit. We reached Niobrara 
about two o’clock ; there we had dinner and fed 
the ponies. About three o’clock we set out for 
the dismal town of Herrick. We struck the Indian 
agency a little after dark. We tried to get a place 
to stay all night, or even something to eat, but failed 
to do so, by reason of orders to the contrary from 
headquarters. Charges against various persons were 
being investigated, and our red brothers were much 
excited. The agency doctor told us that it would 
be unpleasant for a strange white man to be found 
there longer than was strictly necessary. You may 
call this a cool reception, but, all things considered, 
we did not care for a warmer one. We had several 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 


103 


arguments with Lo, as it was ; which arguments were 
caused by the fact that we could not see the wig- 
wams in the dark, and so ran against them. 

“We found the open country, and then our 
troubles really began. Remember, we were armed 
with only a pair of bronchos, an open wagon and 
a dark-lantern. We had not gone far before we 
came to a place where two ways met. We took the 
left-hand road, and soon found ourselves on a bluff 
in front of a little cabin. Hanson took the glim 
and started on a prospecting-tour. He went down 
into the draw to see where the road led to, and 
found himself among lots of wigwams and more 
Indian curs. As fast as he could turn the light in 
one dog’s eyes another would attack him from the 
rear. I was on the bluffs, holding the horses and 
being interviewed by Sioux who wore United States 
blue, but could not use United States talk. I don’t 
profess to be much on Sioux dialect, and ‘ their 
sun-baked faces didn’t teem with conversational 
graces,’ as Will Carleton puts it. 

“ Hanson came up the hill with the lantern turn- 
ed so that the light was shed straight ahead as from 
a locomotive headlight. The Indians thought that we 
meant to run off with their ponies. We found one 


104 


RUTH IRVIN 0 , M. D. 


red man who could talk a little of the white man’s 
language. He wanted to know ‘ Where go?’ and 
‘ What do ?’ We told him ‘ Herrick/ and he 
pointed around in various directions and showed us 
the way out. We followed an invisible trail. Even 
the beauties of nature refused to cheer our way. 
The night was black. 

“After about three hours we sighted an Indian 
camp-fire. Fifteen or twenty Indians were crouch- 
ing around a dying council-fire. One of the men 
understood our language. He told us that a white 
man lived farther on, and after we had crossed his 
palm with silver he agreed to show the way to the 
white man’s house. We procured a midnight sup- 
per and cared for our poor horses. At ten o’clock the 
next day we found the city of Herrick, which at 
this writing consists of three log houses. One of 
the houses has a room used as a store and post- 
office. 

“You will wonder why the firm sent me into 
this region ; so do I. So far as I can see, it has 
been a ‘ fool’s errand.’ 

“You will ask me what I think of the Indians 
now. I answer, I think just as I have always 
thought. When I think of the wrongs the red 


THIS WESTERN COUNTRY. 


105 


man, the black man and the little yellow man have 
endured at the hands of this government, I wonder 
that the American people are not swept from the 
earth by fire and brimstone. 

“ You will say, ‘ Clear the track, for Anderson 
has mounted his hobby/ and I intend to stay 
mounted ; but I will not run over any of you, so 
I will close, hoping that you are all well and 
happy. 

“ Sincerely your friend, 

“ John Andekson.” 


CHAPTER X. 

“LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE.” 




“ For none return from those spirit-shores 

Who cross with the boatman cold and pale ; 
****** 

Yet somewhere, I know, on the unseen shore 
They watch and wait and beckon for me.” 

T7WA PHELPS gained steadily in strength, and 
since the day of those first feeble steppings 
was able to sit up much of the time. Her brother 
was tortured by the fear that she might try her 
strength too far, and so bring on a relapse. He 
gave much advice of this sort : 

“ Little sister, don’t hurry yourself. You may 
always be healthy after this ; so this will prove 
your one chance to enjoy leisure and luxury, besides 
having your own sweet will.” 

“ I sigh for a larger sphere,” said Eva, with a 
laugh. 

The house was fast losing the constraint of sick- 


LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE.” 107 


ness ; the spirit of Christmas pervaded every 
corner. The Anti-Pun Enterprise made wretched 
puns, and fined themselves, in consequence, that 
the Christmas fund might be large. They made 
themselves merry over John Anderson’s letters 
and wished them longer, but Mrs. Jewell, with a 
spirit of gloomy foreboding not a native of her 
soul, spent anxious hours. In her secret heart she 
knew that John Anderson would bring a terri- 
ble cold home with him. The idea so possessed 
her that she set about renewing her stock of 
medicines for that most unpoetical thing, a “ bad 
cold.” 

The boarders were all at supper ; after the 
manner of boarders, they discussed matters and 
things, also people. 

“ This is the twentieth,” said Mr. Phelps ; “ we 
will have another letter, or else we will have John, 
by to-morrow.” 

“ I wonder why they sent him to that region ?” 
said Miss Fleming. 

u It must have been to see the country and guess 
what the business outlook will be after the wilds 
are settled,” said Charlie Hills as he made his first 
attack upon Mrs. Jewell’s toothsome gems. 


108 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ I am surprised that he retains his romantic 
admiration for the Indians, after his experience on 
that reservation,” said Miss Quick. 

“ I don’t call it a ‘ romantic 9 admiration,” said 
Mr. Hills ; “ with him it is a deep-seated principle. 
It is his nature. Anderson has a big soul, and the 
idea that God ‘ hath made of one blood all the 
nations of men’ has taken possession of him. 
That is not a popular doctrine — never has been, 
even in Christian nations.” 

“ You are right,” said Mr. Phelps ; “ it is John’s 
nature. He always sides with the weakest dog in 
the fight. He does like to see fair play, and he 
knows the ‘ black man, the red man and the little 
yellow man ’ never have had it. He will champion 
the cause of the oppressed to his dying hour, and I 
honor him for it.” 

“ I wonder how the Indians and the Chinese will 
get on with what few Congressmen they chance to 
find in heaven ?” said Miss Fleming as she calmly 
sipped her tea. 

“ That depends on how long our Congressmen 
keep on grinding out legal irony on the corner- 
stone, Plymouth-Rock-foundation boulder of the 
Declaration of Independence,” replied Mr. Phelps. 


“ LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE ” 109 

Then Mr. Hills quoted in solemn monotone : 

“‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that 
all men were created equal ; that they were endowed 
by their Creator with certain inalienable rights ; 
that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit 
of happiness ; that to secure these rights govern- 
ments are instituted among men, deriving their 
power from the consent of the governed.’ ” 

“ That is a very pungent quotation,” said Mr. 
Phelps. “ John is a man who — ” 

“ Has an awful cold,” put in a new voice ; and 
John Anderson stood before them. “ I am glad that 
you missed me,” he continued as he went around 
the table shaking hands with every one. “ I know 
you were lonely without me, or I should not find 
you using my name so freely. Yes, I have come 
back from wandering to and fro upon the reserva- 
tion to rest in the bosom of the family.” 

“Just make a little noise when you come in, and 
you will not find us talking about you, Johnny. 
Those non-squeaking shoes of yours should be 
prohibited by law,” said Mr. Hills, who was noted 
for the amount of noise which he made in the 
house. 

There was much exclaiming, there was much 


110 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


hearty laughter — the healthy, happy laughter of 
people who had a right to laugh because of the 
honest, faithful work they did in the w r orld. 

Mr. Anderson was made chairman of the com- 
mittee on “Christmas doings.” Ruth went back 
to her room wondering if that gay young man 
was the one she had almost pitied because of his 
hopeless love. She wished she had not been so 
faithful in the matter of the notes; she did not 
believe that John Anderson cared very much, after 
all. She knew that even his talk of a cold worried 
none of the boarders. But Mrs. Jewell made hot 
lemonade and did other kind, motherly deeds for 
his comfort. John Anderson made fun of the 
dosing, while he blessed Mrs. Jewell in his heart. 
That night she very much reminded him of his 
own mother. 

Some time after midnight Ruth wakened sudden- 
ly. She heard low voices, and then some one stole 
down stairs : soon she thought she heard Mrs. 
Jewell’s voice in the hall. She slipped from her 
couch and crept silently out of the room, bent on 
knowing what the trouble was all about. She 
thought she could sleep again if she only knew, but 
the curiosity was maddening. There was no more 


“ LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE.” Ill 

sleep for Ruth Irving that night. The cold was 
recognized now : John Anderson was sick. 

Mr. Phelps had summoned Mrs. Jewell; five 
minutes later Ruth interviewed them both in the 
lower hall. 

u Mr. Phelps,” she said, “ you must go for the 
doctor, and please go quickly. Tell him it is a case 
of pneumonia, and a very severe one.” 

So Ruth was installed in another sick-room, and 
Jessie Fleming was wakened that she might take 
Ruth’s place on the couch in Eva’s room. 

“ He is doing well,” said the doctor next day ; 
so all hoped for the best and began to wonder if 
they had better write to his friends. 

“ No,” said Herbert Phelps ; “ he has only his 
mother and one sister at home. We will not wor- 
ry them needlessly. John is strong, and will pull 
through. Mother Anderson always says ‘ no news 
is good news.’” 

It was near the end of the third day. Ruth 
sat by her patient, thinking he slept. She under- 
stood him better then ; she had caught broken, 
half-delirious sentences from which she knew that 
John Anderson meant to rejoice with those who 
rejoice and never ask any one to share his burdens. 


112 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


She thought sadly of the weak giant on the bed ; 
she thought tenderly of her own lover, and was 
thankful that her love had fallen in pleasant places. 
A low voice called her back from her day-dreams : 

“Miss Irving, will you open my gripsack and 
take out the package done up in white paper?” 

Ruth did as he requested, and then waited. The 
sick man studied her face thoughtfully, and then 
went on : 

“I have not thanked you for the letters which 
you sent me ; I thank you now. I brought you 
that bit of Indian bead-work in memory of them.” 

“ Oh, I thank you so much !” said Ruth, gently. 
“ I shall prize this very highly. But I must not 
let you talk any more now.” 

“ Yes, you must — and you shall. I have much 
to say, and little time in which to say it. I have 
known all day that a great change is coming soon. 
I have put this off as long as I can. Don’t in- 
terrupt me. You have guessed how I feel toward 
Miss Phelps. It is no use; I knew it all the 
while. Yet I am glad she lived ; I am thankful 
for the love I have for Eva Phelps. It has made 
a better man of me. I want to see her before I 
die, but I am glad she does not love me as I love 


LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORES 113 


her. Now she will only mourn for me as a pleasant 
friend. Remember what I say. Now this is for 
mother and the dear sister at home.” 

Tears streamed from Ruth’s eyes as she listened to 
the low-spoken words. The last messages were given 
while the death-huskiness sounded in John Ander- 
son’s throat ; then his life-work was done. He had 
only to see the girl he loved so unselfishly, and 
then — die. 

Mrs. Jewell sent swift messengers for the doctor 
and for Herbert Phelps. The doctor came, but 
only to confirm the worst fear. The whole house- 
hold soon knew that John Anderson was dying. 
Ruth brought Eva to see him, and the two girls 
stood beside his bed with arms around each other, 
for Ruth dared not leave her patients even in the 
sacred hour of parting. 

Eva Phelps loved John Anderson almost as she 
loved her brother. She forgot the gleam of Colo- 
rado gold on the hand which smoothed the thick 
black hair away from his temples ; she forgot that 
she had thought him cold of late ; she forgot 
everything save that one true friend who was 
passing into the unknown. Her heart cried, “ I 
cannot spare him !” She did not guess how peace- 
8 


114 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


ful was his soul; she did not guess that he was 
half glad to lay down the life which she had 
made a burden to him. She heard his dying 
blessing; she covered his forehead and lips with 
fond kisses; then Ruth led her from the room. 

Herbert Phelps rushed up stairs in answer to the 
brief summons. He caught his sister in his arms, 
carried her to her own room and placed her on the 
bed. She lay with wide-staring eyes and with face 
like marble. The doctor mercifully prepared a 
sleeping-mixture and held it to her lips ; she drank 
it without a question as to its nature. Soon they 
had the satisfaction of seeing her go quietly to 
sleep. They were glad that her sorrow had been 
beaten off some hours. 

Ruth went back to the dying man. By his side 
stood a minister of God holding the nerveless hand 
in his own and speaking w r ords of comfort. The 
white lips moved. The minister stooped to catch 
the whispers; then he said, 

“ John asks for his nurse. I think he wants to 
see her.” 

The sorrowful group made room for Ruth at the 
bedside. 

John Anderson slowly whispered, 


“ LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE.” 115 

“ This — is — my nurse — Miss Irving.” 

“He wants to introduce us;” and the minister 
gave Ruth one hand, while with the other he still 
held the one so swiftly growing pulseless. “ Miss 
Irving, we must be very good friends, now that 
one so soon to enter heaven has cared to make us 
known to each other.” 

A glad light broke over the dying man’s face, and 
the friends gathered in the room thought sadly, 
“ This might have been if John could only have 
lived.” They remembered how careful he had been 
for the comfort of the young nurse, and that is 
about all people really know of one another. 

The man of God still held Ruth’s hand in his 
grasp, still held the failing one, while he repeated 
these words of prayer and consolation : 

“ ‘ Lord, behold he whom thou lovest. is sick.’ 
He is the ‘only son of his mother, and she is a 
widow.’ Our Father, we bring him to thee, thou 
only Source of help and comfort. We thank thee 
that this young man settled the questions of life, 
death and eternity in the days of his strength. 
We thank thee that he is ready, glad to answer 
thy summons to ‘ come up higher.’ Now we give 
him thine own holy words of comfort: ‘When 


116 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


thou passest through the waters, I will be with 
thee ; and through the rivers, they shall not over- 
flow thee f ‘ In my Father’s house are many man- 
sions ; if it were not so I would have told you f 
‘ I go to prepare a place for you ; I will come again, 
and receive you unto myself f ‘ Peace I leave with 
you, my peace I give unto you;’ ‘Let not your 
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid f ‘ Yea, 
though I walk through the valley of the shadow 
of death, I will fear no evil : for thou art with me, 
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.’ ” 

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright. 
Angels had sung, “ Peace on earth, good-will to 
men,” and men had caught up the strain and 
echoed it over the earth. Peace and gladness ! 
but in that house rested the shadow of the gray 
angel. John Anderson lay on the couch in the 
cold and darkened parlor, his face the moulded 
clay of perfect manly beauty. Peace there was on 
lip and on brow, sadness in the hearts around him, 
and oh, such unutterable sadness waiting for two 
hearts far away toward the sunrise, never to hear 
his voice again, never to feel the clasp of his hand 
— not even to have the pitiful privilege of smooth- 


“ LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHORE ” 117 

ing the thick hair away from his cold brow ! He 
died among strangers. 

“ Strangers were friends 
All that long sad day ; 

Christ guided the boy 

Through the unknown way.” 

From dying eyes looks out a strong yearning for 
dear faces, and tender words were spoken to the 
boy dying so far from home ; gentle hands minis- 
tered unto him. Ruth Irving carefully fulfilled 
her sacred trust, and wrote out those last messages 

" Dear as remembered kisses after death 
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned 
On lips that are for others.” 

Mrs. Jewell found time to write a black-bordered 
letter to the mourning mother far away on the foot- 
hills of the Green Mountains; Herbert and Eva 
Phelps mourned as for an only brother. 

On Christmas morning Herbert Phelps found a 
bag of shining nickels beside his plate at the 
breakfast-table ; a card pinned to it bore the name 
and address of the city missionary. 

"She will know just what to do with them,” 


118 RUTH IRVING , M. D. 

said Jessie Fleming ; and all the others gave silent 
assent. 

Two days later they listened to the words : 
“Man, that is born of a woman, is of few days 
and full of trouble then they all went over and 
looked into a lone grave in Omaha’s cemetery, and 
they all returned home thinking, “I went as far 
with him as I could go.” Then his mourners 
walked about the streets. 

Is my story a sad one ? That is because it is so 
true. Tens of thousands of young men go out 
from the valleys and down from the hills of the 
East with their faces toward the West, their hearts 
full of hope. Oh, the glory of their strong young 
manhood ! Oh, the plans they made the night 
before they left the old home ! They do not know 
that they can fail. In the old neighborhood at 
home they were boys ; in the West they will be 
men among men, and will take a manly part in the 
strife with men. From their ranks death takes 
many victims. A sudden cold neglected until there 
is not time to doctor it : the end is a lone grave in 
some Western cemetery. You who stay behind — 
and it is always hardest to stay behind — receive a 


“LANDING ON SOME SILENT SHOBEr 119 

telegram that the boy is dead. Somebody writes a 
letter telling a few sad facts. Does the letter seem 
harsh and tell so little of the much you wanted to 
know ? Remember, the heart which prompted it 
meant kindness, and it is hard to write the sort 
of a letter you long for. Perhaps they send home 
the boy’s trunk. It is the one the whole family 
helped to pack the night before he went away. 
There is such a trunk standing in the next room ; 
the pen with which I am writing traveled in it. 
The long hopeful letters have stopped coming; 
there is just a blank. 

Now you go out of the west door at sunset ; you 
take a long look down the way by which your dear- 
est boy went forth. You wish you might stand by 
his grave and plant flowers on it ; you wonder how 
the grave looks. Let me tell you, for I have stood 
beside one similar to it ; I have parted the grasses 
over the lowly bed. Your boy’s last home is on a 
bluff where the sunlight lingers longest at sunset. 
The summer grasses wave soft and cool above the 
sleeper’s rest. Mother Nature has planted a sweet 
wild rose at his head and prairie-violets bloom at 
his feet. In winter the dainty buffalo-grass makes 
a rarer covering than you ever spread over his 


120 


RUTH IRVING , M. I). 


childish form. The clear sky bends low ; the stars 
— those “ forget-me-nots of the angels ” — seem very 
near when you stand there. Bright spirits keep 
watch above the boy’s grave, for God was near to 
the lad who died among strangers. 


CHAPTER XI. 

GOING ON WITHOUT HIM. 

“ The dead had been faithful : 

Why should I weep ?” 

T the boarding-house life went on very much 



as of old — sadder, perhaps; for the memory 
of the unsodded grave was fresh among the board- 
ers. But such low mounds make very little differ- 
ence in the world’s affairs. 

" Every one can master a grief but he that has 
it.” Last year I looked into an open grave. My 
neighbor said he was sorry, and went on making 
bright plans for his own future. Yesterday crape 
floated from my neighbor’s door-bell; to-day his 
home is desolate, for the rain beats down on an 
unsodded grave just behind the hill. I have told 
him that I am sorry for him, and have come back 
to my writing ; and “ each heart knoweth its own 
bitterness.” 

We never realize how tall our friends are until 


121 


122 


RUTH IRVIRG, M. D. 


we see them lying low, wrapped in the lengths of 
winding-sheet; until then we never think how 
much of the pleasure of living was made up of the 
tones of voice, the odd sayings, the bright laughter, 
all the little ways which go to make one friend 
differ from another. So those people had never 
dreamed how much the life at the boarding-house 
had been brightened by the big-hearted man who 
so well could take a joke. The two days which 
the silent form had lain in the darkened parlor 
had done more to leave the impression of his char- 
acter upon his fellow-boarders than months of ac- 
tive life had done. Some way, we never come to a 
full stop until our lives are punctuated by a coffin. 
Those people felt that John Anderson had been a 
true friend ; they wondered when his place would 
be filled. But no living being can fill the place the 
dead left empty. 

Herbert Phelps wrote long letters to the woman 
who had been a mother to his orphan boyhood. He 
looked after John’s life-insurance money and hunted 
paying investments that the aged mother might live 
in comfort. All the while he carried about with him 
a heavy heart. Between these two men there had 
been a bond stronger than brother-love, and now 


GOING ON WITHOUT HIM. 


123 


one of them was not; for a time the other lived 
a broken life. 

Herbert put aside his own sorrow that he might 
cheer his sister, whose heart failed her because of the 
weakness of her body ; the days were very sad for 
her because of the sorrow which she knew filled the 
heart of the only mother she had ever known. All 
the plans for moving the home to the West must be 
given up ; she must abandon the thought of happi- 
ness when her playmate-sister should come out to 
them. Mary Anderson must go on teaching school 
in the little village in Vermont : there was no 
homeless John who needed her in Nebraska. Big, 
tender-hearted John had been the bond that united 
the family. It had been John’s arms that held 
Eva, John’s voice that comforted her, when she 
wept at the first parting with Herbert, years ago. 
She said that was the first fact in her history, for 
her memory went back no farther than that part- 
ing. 

It was not Eva’s nature to mope over trouble. 
The second day after the funeral a pale black-robed 
shadow of her former self crept down stairs and 
took her place at the table. She received a warm 
welcome, but she looked so spirit-like that her 


124 RUTH IRVING, M. D. 

friends feared she too would vanish from among 
them. 

The parlor doors were again thrown open, but 
no one mentioned the Anti-Pun Enterprise and no 
ere ventured a pun. There was a stronger home- 
feeling in the house than ever before, and there 
were more gatherings in the parlor for chatting or 
for music. 

The days went on, and Eva gained rapidly in 
strength ; soon she was to go back to her school- 
room. Many thick letters came from Denver, and, 
though she mourned sincerely, her hopes and her 
loves were in the future. 

Ruth Irving went back to Dr. Ross and the 
bright room on Sixteenth street. The girl had 
made many warm friends in the last few weeks. 
There are no circumstances in life which more 
quickly cement the ties of friendship than does 
common anxiety over sickness or common sorrow 
at death. John Anderson’s decease had made a 
deep impression on Ruth’s mind. She had seen 
the parting of soul and body in its more repulsive 
phases; she had looked on the agony, the stolid 
indifference — had watched the slow passing of an 
unconscious soul ; but that man had lain there in 


GOING ON WITHOUT HIM. 


125 


the full possession of every faculty of mind and 
heart; he had looked calmly into a future which 
narrowed swiftly down to a stranger’s grave. He 
had felt no fear ; he was satisfied that it was well 
with him, and had thought of others’ comfort to 
the last. He had trusted, with a faith simple as a 
little child’s, in the love and mercy of Christ, and 
had gone into the valley of the shadow of death 
without any dread of what might there be awaiting 
him. 

Ruth knew that that meant the possession of 
something which she had not — something which 
she did not understand. The triumph on that 
death-calmed face was not the result of guesswork : 
in the kind face of the preacher of the Christian’s 
God she had read that the dying man knew wherein 
he trusted and whereof he spoke. The preacher’s 
firm, solemn words of prayer sounded in her ears 
long after she had looked her last at the face of the 
man for whom he pleaded. She often thought, and 
thought deeply, on the subject; but the poor girl 
only met with more questions. She could not go 
back on a lifetime of skeptical teaching and place 
her faith in the Christian’s Saviour simply on the 
evidence of one dying-bed. Still, Roy Ford’s scoff- 


126 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


ing hurt her as if lie spoke lightly of some one 
whom she had known and loved. 

As time went on these impressions grew dim- 
mer. Ruth turned her face toward her love- 
colored future, and thought she had left behind 
John Anderson’s life. 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE SKATING-RINK \ OR HOMER f 

“ Troy, of rare riches and valor possessed, 

Ruined fore’er by one beautiful guest.” 

mHE health ful ness of the people of that young 
city was remarkable. The bracing winds and 
the pure air gave Westerners a new lease of life; 
therefore did doctors and nurses have ample time 
to cultivate their minds and to look after their 
friendships. 

Ruth Irving saw much of her lover, and was 
very happy. At Christmas-time he had given her 
the betrothal-ring, but, as their engagement was to 
be kept a secret, she wore it, not on her finger, but 
on a ribbon placed around her neck. She listened 
to Eva’s happy planning for the future, but made no 
admissions as to her own relations with Roy Ford. 
As for Mr. Ford, he divided his time into three 

parts— -the night- work, the morning sleep and the 

127 


128 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


afternoon spent with Ruth. The joy of her days 
began with his coming. 

The afternoons were almost always spent at the 
skating-rink. Mr. Ford was a fine skater, and 
Kuth speedily became fascinated with the sport. 
She gave her whole mind up to it, as she was apt 
to do to anything that interested her. She walked 
home at night with glowing cheeks and sparkling 
eyes, telling the Doctor that they had had a glorious 
time. But when Koy Ford was gone, she would 
sink into a chair saying she was nearly tired to 
death, and for hours would seem listless and weary 
of everything. 

As time went on Dr. Ross began to be very 
glad that Mr. Ford was a night-worker: he could 
not monopolize Ruth’s evenings. The Doctor grew 
into the habit of seeing many bugbears in Ruth’s 
pathway. She had adopted the girl, and loved her 
in the place of uncles, aunts and cousins ; not even 
a cat or a canary-bird hindered the tide of her 
affection flowing Ruthward. For the rest of man- 
kind she entertained a kindly sympathy — for all ex- 
cept Roy Ford; she had no use for him. She 
looked on him much as she would have looked on a 
neighbor’s ill-bred cat that might gaze wistfully at 


THE SKATING-RINK, OR HOMER? 129 


a bird of hers. But Ruth was of more value than 
were many birds. 

The more Dr. Ross loved Ruth, the more im- 
possible it became for her to use her influence 
directly against Ruth’s lover. If she offended the 
girl, she would add to Mr. Ford’s influence, while 
she would only weaken her own. There was noth- 
ing to do but to wait, though she saw no good 
excuse for all Mr. Ford’s attentions to Ruth. If 
he meant an honorable marriage, why did he not 
say so? He certainly had been through with all 
the usual preliminaries to such a statement. But 
the Doctor thought that Ruth had better not marry 
Roy Ford. The troubled medical-woman told 
herself that perhaps it was only a pleasant friend- 
ship, but Roy Ford was not the man for a pure 
friendship. If she had known of the engagement 
kept secret at the lover’s request, she might have 
been roused to such a pitch of righteous indignation 
as to express some strong opinions on the subject 
without regard to results. 

Sometimes Mr. Ford and the day -superintendent 
changed places, and so Ruth’s lover had an evening 
to devote to her pleasure. These evenings were 
spent at the rink, or sometimes at a concert. Ruth 


130 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


declared that Helen Ross should go with them un- 
less her duties made it impossible ; the Doctor gladly 
went for love of the girl to whom she dared not 
say, “ Ruth, you must not go with him.” At the 
rink the Doctor watched Ruth’s graceful circlings, 
and when the hour was over prepared to go home. 
Very much to Mr. Ford’s disgust, Ruth would go 
with her. The Doctor locked her door that night 
and thanked God that Ruth was inside and safe. 

The lovers came near quarreling next day. 

“Ruthie,” said Mr. Ford as they walked along 
the street, “ do you know it was unkind of you to 
spoil my pleasure just for the sake of walking home 
with Dr. Ross?” 

“ Why, Roy, you did not expect her to go home 
alone, did you?” 

“ She would not mind it,” he replied ; “ she is 
used to going about alone.” 

“ Roy Ford !” There was a dangerous light in 
Ruth’s eyes. “ I asked Dr. Ross to go with us, and 
she stayed as long as she could ; it was only com- 
mon decency, to say nothing of courtesy, to take 
lier home. I knew she would stay only a little 
while.” 

({ Yes, but it was nonsense to spoil our pleasure 


THE SKATING-RINK, \ OR HOMER? 131 

just to walk a few blocks in a brightly-lighted 
street. She does not mind going to see a patient 
alone ; these professional women do not care for the 
little attentions which you enjoy .” 

At that unfortunate speech Ruth’s temper blazed 
forth. She would not hear one slighting word for 
professional women — no, not even from Roy Ford. 

“Roy Ford, to be a doctor makes her no more 
unwomanly than being a nurse makes me ungirl- 
ish,” she cried. 

“ I know, Ruthie,” he said. “ It is not her pro- 
fession, it is herself ; she seems so strong and man- 
nish l” 

Roy seemed to think the word “ mannish ” ought 
to put Ruth’s defence to flight. 

“ Yes, she is strong,” said Ruth, “ though bodily 
she is more frail than I. Her strength is a sort of 
heart-strength.” 

“ I said she was mannish, did I not ?” returned 
Roy. 

“You said so, but she is not,” Ruth retorted. 
“You don’t know her. Besides that, ‘strength’ 
and ‘ mannishness ’ are not synonymous terms. I 
have observed that heart-strength or soul-strength 
is found more often in women than in men.” 


132 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ Have your own sweet way, little girl,” said the 
fond lover, “ but don’t get such an alarming amount 
of soul-strength. I don’t want an unwomanly 
wife.” 

“ Neither would Helen Ross make an unwomanly 
wife ; she is as sweet and loving a home-woman as 
though she never saw the inside of a medical book. 
Not one woman in a hundred is more able than she 
to guide a home wisely.” 

Ruth entered her own doorway without asking 
her lover to come in ; a brief “ Good-night ” was all 
the farewell he received. He went whistling along 
the street, thinking, “ She will be over her pet by 
to-morrow. It is not like her to be so put out over 
such a mighty little thing.” 

Roy Ford had unwittingly touched the wrong 
chords ; he did not know that Ruth had planned 
to be a doctor until love for him had conquered am- 
bition. It was still a tender subject with her. 

Dr. Ross never had the comfort of knowing that 
she was the cause of the first quarrel between those 
lovers, but the fact proved that her policy in the 
war of love was a wise one. She kept on waiting, 
and tried to interest Ruth in other lives and other 
studies. She knew Ruth’s mental abilities were far 


THE SKATING-RINK \ OR HOMER? 133 

above Roy Ford’s; she hoped the girl might out- 
grow her need of him. 

Ruth and Helen had gone one night to attend a 
u family gathering ” at the boarding-house. The 
Doctor was charmed with Mrs. Jewell and her 
family ; they, in turn, were delighted with her. 
Both the Doctor and Ruth learned to speak of u go- 
ing home ” when they spoke of calling on motherly 
Mrs. Jewell. 

Helen Ross wondered how Ruth Irving, after 
knowing such men as Herbert Phelps, Mr. Fre- 
mont and Charlie Hills, could possibly spend so 
much time with Roy Ford. Ruth was in love 
with Roy Ford, and Dr. Ross was not. 

Mrs. Jewell was the centre of life at the board- 
ing-house, as a sweet, womanly mother is the source 
of pleasure with a family of sons and daughters. She 
often said to herself, “ These should have been my 
children.” She had outlived the bitterness of the mem- 
ory of the graves on the Eastern hillside. The work 
she had forced herself to do for others had brought 
a loving care for all young people. She said, “ My 
sons would have had John Anderson’s genial ways 
and Herbert Phelps’s tender care for their sisters ; 
my daughters would wear the fair, sweet beauty of 


134 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Eva Phelps or Jessie Fleming’s bright face.” The 
young people were dear to her because of what her 
children must have been had God been willing. 
In return for her devotion, she received love and 
care from sons and daughters not her own ; they 
made her one among them in all their plans for 
rest and pleasure. There was a spirit of good- 
natured rivalry among “ the boys ” as to which one 
should be allowed to show her the most attention ; 
they were proud of their “ prior past ” girl, as she 
laughingly termed herself. 

This woman’s soul would always be young ; her 
face had not lost its youthfulness even though it had 
long been shaded by silver hair framed in a widow’s 
veil. She deserved much courtesy at the younger 
people’s hands. She made a home instead of pre- 
siding over a boarding-house. Scarcely a week 
went by that she did not leave her door on the 
arm of one of “her boys;” they took her away 
from her cares to lecture or concert, or for a swift 
ride over the bluffs and divides near Omaha. 

The evening at the Doctor’s the talk turned to 
the scientific discoveries being made in the Orient — 
a subject in which these people were much inter- 
ested. 


THE SKATING-RINK, OR HOMER? 135 

“ The Y. M. C. A. lecture-course will give us 
one treat in that line of study,” said Mr. Phelps. 

“ What is the subject ?” asked Dr. Ross. 

“Troy as unearthed by Dr. Schliemann,” he 
replied. 

“That will be grand. Who is to give the 
lecture ?” 

“A Mr. Parsons,” said Mr. Hills. “I under- 
stand that Mr. Parsons was with Dr. Schliemann 
a portion of the time the latter spent in the work at 
Troy ; he speaks from what he saw on the ground.” 

“ He will show us the house of Priam blackened 
with fire,” said Eva Phelps. 

“Yes ?” said Dr. Ross. 

“ I am not given to hunting for a moral,” said 
Mr. Hills, “ but it seems to me we might find a 
sermon in those ruins. Poor old Homer had to be 
very patient ; it took three thousand years for his 
word to be proved.” 

Ruth’s studies had stopped short of Homer’s 
Iliad; she did not understand what those people 
were talking about. Dr. Ross saw it, and, while 
she felt sorry for Ruth, was delighted with the 
discovery. She could create dissension between 
Ruth and her lover, and do it in a perfectly honor- 


136 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


able way : she knew the story of Troy would rouse 
Ruth to the highest pitch of interested excitement. 

While the Doctor planned the talk went on ; they 
all decided to attend the lecture. Mr. Phelps 
agreed to get tickets for the whole party. 

Dr. Ross began at once to carry out her plans ; 
while she made ready for rest that night she told 
the story of the beautiful Helen and the faithless 
Paris, who left his fair bride CEnone to mourn 
among the pine forests of Mount Ida. She spoke 
of Menelaus and Agamemnon, of the doomed 
Achilles and the wise Ulysses. She made the story 
bright and brief, and was more than repaid when 
Ruth said, as she gave her pillow a vigorous 
shaking, 

“ My school-days ended when Mrs. Irving’s sick- 
ness began, but I must study more. I am going to 
save my pennies after this; maybe I can manage 
a term or two at the high school, if I can do no 
better. I must read about all that while I am out 
of work.” 

“ I have a translation of the Iliad” said the 
Doctor; “we can read it together, for I should 
enjoy going over it again.” 

Helen’s mind was full of plans. This lecturer, 


THE SKATING-RINK \ OR HOMER t 137 


with his account of modern discoveries, would 
prove the earthly existence of Homer’s Troy. Are 
not Nineveh and Babylon now giving up testimony 
written in stone as to the truth of the Bible ? 

“ Oh, Helen, wake up ! Where is your Homer f 
I can read a while before breakfast.” 

These words mixed with the Doctor’s morning 
dreams. She opened her eyes to see Buth already 
dressed and taking book after book from the 
shelves. 

Dr. Boss found the Iliad , and while she coiled 
her glossy hair she made suggestions and lectured 
on Greek history. Her toilet was finished, and 
there was still half an hour before breakfast-time ; 
she sat down and began the wonderful story of 
Homer’s Troy. Buth listened eagerly. Mrs. 
Jewell, Mr. Hills, Herbert and Eva Phelps and 
Jessie Fleming had talked of these things, while 
she knew nothing of them, but she was going to 
learn much of them before the lecture. She spent 
the morning in reading Homer, and almost re- 
gretted putting away the book when Mr. Ford 
called in the afternoon. 

The Doctor’s office-hours were not over, so Buth 


138 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


went with her lover into the brightness of the out- 
side day. She insisted on going for a walk instead 
of skating; she was ready to forgive Mr. Ford’s 
ungracious remarks of the evening before. She had 
told herself, “ He does not know Helen as well as I 
do. How can I expect him to love her so much ?” 

Ruth told all about the lecture and her plans for 
reading Homer, and wished that Roy might read 
with them. 

“Why, child, what ideas you do get into your 
head !” and this sensible young man laughed heart- 
ily. “ That whole story is only a — a sort of — of 
fable. There never was any Troy, or — or Homer, 
either, for that matter. Most likely the man who 
is to lecture here is a fraud.” 

“ Have you ever read the story ?” asked Ruth, 
very quietly. 

“ Why, no ; I don’t spend my time reading such 
books.” 

“Then don’t talk to me of things about which 
you know nothing,” laughed Ruth as she gave the 
young man’s coat-sleeve a dainty little pat. 

The night of the lecture came, clear and cold. 
The boarding-house party called for Dr. Ross and 


THE SKATING-RINK \ OR HOMER? 139 

Ruth Irving. It was a merry company that 
boarded the street-cars on their way to the Young 
Men’s Christian Association hall. They listened to 
a delightful lecture on Dr. Schliemann’s discoveries 
in the charred ruins of Troy, the Ilion whose terri- 
ble fate inspired the immortal Greek poet. Every 
word gave Ruth’s ambitions a new impulse ; roused 
by her recent reading of Homer, she was bent on 
reaching after other good things in history and lit- 
erature. 

“What a debt the world owes to Dr. Schlie- 
mann !” said Mr. Fremont as he passed into the 
street with Mrs. Jewell on one arm and Ruth Irving 
on the other. 

“ Yes,” said Mrs. Jewell ; “ he has proved that 
Troy had other existence than among the Muses 
who dwell on Mount Olympia.” 

“ I wonder if Mrs. Schliemann is an advocate of 
universal suffrage ?” said Ruth. 

“ She has proved herself her husband’s equal in 
the qualities of faith and courage,” remarked 
Mr. Fremont. 

“ Mrs. Schliemann is my ideal of a true wife,” 
said Herbert Phelps, coming up with Dr. Ross and 
Eva. 


140 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“Do you know where the sun rises upon just 
such another?” asked Mrs. Jewell. 

“ Mrs. Jewell, I must confess that I do not ; or 
if I do, some other man has found her before I 
have,” was the reply. 

As the party waited on the corner for the street- 
car Mr. Phelps said, 

“ Eva, do you think that you could help to un- 
earth a buried city ?” They were all gathered close 
around her the better to shield her from the wind, 
which blew too roughly for one not quite strong. 

“ ‘A living wall of human wood/ ” said Eva, 
laughingly. — “ No, Herbert ; I do not think I 
should choose to do it if I could. It would give 
me a disagreeable sense of prying into other people’s 
business. Espionage is not my forte.” 

“ Hear that from a teacher of chemistry !” cried 
Mr. Hills. — “ Why, Miss Phelps, I thought you 
spent your life in prying into and expounding 
secrets ?” 

“ Nature is never ashamed of her secrets ; some 
people are ashamed of theirs. It is hard work 
properly to manage the traditional skeleton. I 
never did know what to do with other people’s 
secrets.” 


THE SKATING-RINK \ OR HOMER t 141 


“ I keep them,” laughed Dr. Ross. 

“ Yes ; that is the proper thing to do,” replied 
Eva. “ Once I rummaged in an old house which 
had been closed for years. In oue room I found a 
package of faded flowers, odd gloves, and the like ; 
I looked at them, and wondered who had treasured 
them. As I was about to tie them up I found 
written on the wrapper, ‘To be burned unopened 
after I am dead.’ It seemed as though I had des- 
ecrated the sepulchre of some one’s heart-secrets; 
that some Vandal had been there before was small 
comfort.” 

“Miss Phelps,” said the irrepressible Charlie 
Hills, “ please promise me that you never will re- 
peat those remarks. A woman without curiosity 
would be such an attraction for a dime museum ! 
You would not be safe. Besides, you will upset all 
our theories on womanly curiosity.” 

All laughed and entered the street-car, while 
Ruth Irving thought of the dead man’s secret she 
kept for Eva’s sake. 

“I have made up my mind that it is not safe to 
keep a diary,” said Mr. Fremont when the ladies 
were seated and the men stood up and hung grace- 
fully to the straps which street-car companies kindly 


142 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


furnish for the comfort of the sterner sex in case 
the seat-room fails. 

“ We do not write our sermons in stones,” said 
Dr. Ross. 

“ I should not wish to be hurried if I were to 
set my house in order for the light of three thou- 
sand years to come,” said Mrs. Jewell. 

“ True,” said Mr. Phelps ; “ I tremble for Hills’s 
reputation if his dressing-case, in every-day order, 
were to be canned for the inspection of future gen- 
erations.” 

“Oh, there would be nothing the matter with 
that,” said Mr. Hills, cheerfully. “ Some scientific 
person would write it up for the holiday number of 
the Fiftieth Century ; he would shed much light on 
our manners and customs. I shall have my name 
carved on all my toilet-articles, and the linguist will 
read it, the scientific man will echo ‘ Hills ! hills ! 
Why, it was supposed that this was prairie-land.’ 
Then they will go and revise all their theories re- 
garding ancient Omaha.” 

“ I want all you people in my dining-room,” said 
Mrs. Jewell as these “ people ” left the car. “ Eva 
must have some soup ; I don’t approve of trying to 
sleep when one’s stomach is empty.” 


THE SKATING-RINK, OR HOMER f 143 


They all filed into the house, a company of very 
happy people. 

u This shall be a ‘ suffering men’s supper / 99 said 
Mr. Fremont. “ Hills and I will cook the oysters; 
the rest of the masculines must wash the dishes. — 
Mrs. Jewell, I trust you will submit very grace- 
fully?” 

“ Yes, indeed, Mrs. Jew r ell !” cried Mr. Hills. 
“ I am sure you long to test the Hilly method of 
getting up the most intellectual oyster;” and Mr. 
Hills borrowed some pins and began to fasten his 
handkerchief on in the place of an apron. 

“I may submit to your cookery, but never to 
that apron :” and Mrs. Jewell brought out two 
large white aprons, which the would-be cooks put 
on and then started for the kitchen. 

If Mrs. Jewell felt any feminine apprehension for 
her kitchen-utensils, she bravely suppressed them, 
and with the others awaited the call to supper. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen, you will please consider 
our faces as black as our souls are white, and come 
out to supper,” was Charlie Hills’s announcement. 

“ How is this, Doctor ?” asked Mr. Fremont as 
he passed the soup. “ They taught me that it was 
an unhealthy practice to eat just before bedtime.” 


144 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ If you should give up all unhealthy practices, 
you would do very little of anything in this world,” 
replied the Doctor. “ Little pigs eat and then go 
right to sleep ; so do all other young and healthy 
creatures. Why should we humans differ from all 
nature ? Let me give you a little professional ad- 
vice.” 

“ Certainly, Doctor, for I remember that 

‘A wise physician skill’d our wounds to heal 
Is more than armies to the public weal.’ 

What is your advice ?” 

“ It is this,” laughed the Doctor: “if it ever 
becomes your sad duty to walk the floor until some- 
body’s baby has cried itself to sleep, offer the 
child a drink of milk. Most likely the poor 
little thing cries for no other reason in the world 
than because it is hungry.” 

“ Thank you,” said Mr. Fremont. — “ Phelps, 
you don’t mind waiting while I note that down, do 
you?” and, whisking out his note-book, he wrote 
rapidly. Then he triumphantly read : 

“ 1 Feed the baby : it is hungry. 

“ ‘ H. A. Ross, M. D.’ ” 


THE SKATING-RINK, OR HOMER ? 145 

“ Such forgery never can be allowed/’ said Mr. 
Phelps; “ Dr. Ross writes her prescriptions in a 
dead language.” 

“ Yes,” replied the Doctor, “ but there would be 
fewer dead people if doctors wrote their prescrip- 
tions in good, sensible, every-day American.” 

10 


CHAPTER XIII. 


OUT OF WORK. 


“ O man ! a brave and godlike race I 
But you can be so vile and base ! 

And when there is no urgent need, 

You can protect us well indeed. 

******* 

When we are crushed with want and dread, 

Then we have most from you to fear.” 

T first Ruth enjoyed idleness very much ; she 



was tired, and needed rest. The duties of 
nurse are not a light burden for a girl of nineteen, 
and Ruth had borne these burdens for three years. 
Young as she was, she was mistress of the arts of 
securing quiet, coolness and comfort for a sick 
person. This means that she was a thoroughly 
womanly woman. For two weeks it was delight- 
ful to have no work to do, to have ample time to 
enjoy Mr. Ford’s society, or, when he was not 
available, to run in and chat with Mrs. Jewell 


146 


OUT OF WORK. 


147 


or with Eva Phelps. Oh the wide range of woman’s 
chat ! Her conversational resources include every- 
thing from Homer to rick-rack braid and paper 
flowers. 

After a time Ruth began to wish for w r ork ; 
there were urgent reasons for so doing. There is 
nothing earthly which can be sustained without 
money. She had been a foolish virgin, and had 
lived fully up to her income; she had no money 
wherewith to buy oil for the purpose of lubricat- 
ing her daily life. Improvident ? Yes. So is our 
nation. 

Bills for the necessaries of life counted up fright- 
fully. Rent was very high, for the young city 
was adding to its population by thousands every 
year; house-building could not keep pace with 
the demand for shelter. The cost of a foothold 
was surprising, but the rent of those two fair 
rooms was a serious matter in the lives of our 
workers. Rent must be paid in advance; after 
Ruth had contributed her share of the March rent 
her purse looked, she said, as though an elephant had 
stepped on it. She had been obliged to spend some 
money for clothing, and her board-bill was paid 
up to date. They had cooked many little suppers 


148 


RUTH IRVING , M, D. 


on the Garland stove as a means of keeping that 
bill within reasonable bounds. 

One evening Ruth moved restlessly about the 
room, as was her habit when thinking. Dr. Ross 
studied her medical-book and paid no attention 
to Ruth’s restlessness ; she recognized this as one 
of Ruth’s moods, and these women seldom ques- 
tioned each other. In that fact was one of the 
secrets of their happiness together ; they knew 
that no human being wants to be interviewed all 
the time. Ruth did not speak of her troubles, 
for three years’ contact with the world had taught 
her the propriety of keeping her own secrets, and 
other people’s also; now that she had a friend in 
whom she could trust, it was hard overcoming the 
habit of reticence acquired when her life knew no 
Helen Ross. 

Dr. Ross had always shared her troubles with 
her gentle mother ; with her whole soul she wished 
for some one to speak to, and, trusting Ruth im- 
plicitly, she talked of her personal affairs with 
comical gravity. Ruth listened, laughed, counseled 
or consoled as the case required, and went on bear- 
ing her burdens alone. The Doctor thought it 
was “ Ruth’s way,” for the burst of confidence 


OUT OF WORK. 


149 


on the evening of our first meeting was the only 
one she had ever received. 

At last Ruth sat down in front of her friend; 
she expressed herself on this wise : 

“Dr. Ross, do put up that inevitable Nervous 
Diseases. Listen to me one minute.” 

“ Say ‘ Helen/ and I will,” was the reply. 

“ How can I say ‘ Helen 9 over all that pile of 
medical lore ? No ; ‘ doctor 9 is the only name 
that fits you now. Whom have you designs upon, 
that you are so studious?” 

“The whole human race,” said the Doctor, 
laughingly. “ There, Ruth ! I have removed the 
bone of contention ; speak your mind, sister.” 

“Well, Helen, I am going to board myself — at 
least, I shall until I get another case. I have 
nothing to do; so I might as well look up the 
science set forth in the cook-books.” 

“ It is a good idea ; I will board with you. No, 
we will not call it ‘ boarding / let us say we will 
live at home. That of itself will be a delightful 
change.” 

“Helen, I am afraid you are growing sarcas- 
tic. Check such tendencies, I beg you. Of course 
we will not confess that we cook our own meals 


150 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


because it is cheaper. Oh no ; it is because our 
souls long for a stew-pan and a dish-cloth. Yes, I 
believe we can save quite a little by the experiment. 
I should have tried it before, but I kept thinking 
that I should have work before long; now my 
ideas on that subject are very misty.” 

“ Don’t lose courage, Ruthie,” said the Doctor, 
cheerfully ; “ times will soon be better. When shall 
we begin our housekeeping ?” 

“ You blessed old cheerybody !” cried Ruth. 
“ We will begin at once. Yes ; we will take break- 
fast at home. I will go right after some groceries.” 

Ruth put on her hat and cloak and allowed the 
Doctor to return to her medical-book in peace. So 
it was that they cooked their own meals on the 
Garland stove, after their manner on the night of 
our first meeting. 

This kind of gypsy life has its charms, and these 
women enjoyed it. Everything in the bread-line 
could be bought ready baked; it was fresh and 
wholesome. That left little cooking to do, for they 
lived very simply. But even uncooked food costs 
money. Ruth felt that she must not spend her last 
cent ; the only thing to do was to get trusted at the 
corner grocery. She would have work soon, and 


OUT OF WORK. 


151 


would then be able to pay the bill. The shrewd 
Dane who kept the store was willing to trust her. 
Of course he was. He knew Ruth was an honest 
young woman ; he knew her work was well paid. 
Moreover, she had spent many shekels at his coun- 
ter for fruit, candy, and the like. He desired that 
she should continue to do so. 

Ruth had always avoided debt ; now she felt that 
there was no other way out of her troubles. Debt 
— bad enough in the best circumstances — is a ter- 
rible thing for a woman alone in the world; but 
Ruth had to live, and this was before Mr. Ruskin 
said, “ Starve and go to heaven, but don’t borrow. 
Try, first, begging — I don’t mind, if it is really 
needful, stealing; but don’t buy things you can’t 
pay for.” 

Ruth was not wise above her day and her gener- 
ation ; she thought she had found the best way out 
of her troubles, and perhaps she had. She repaired 
her clothing and went through with that mysterious 
process which women call “ turning a dress.” She 
studied eagerly and kept herself bright for Roy’s 
sake. No; it was for the sake of her own self- 
respect, because that is one of the instincts of a 
true woman’s soul. She would have been neat and 


152 


RUTH IB VINO, M. D. 


beautiful though set down alone in the middle of 
the “ Great American Desert.” 

Time went on, and no one called for Ruth’s serv- 
ices ; she began to grow desperate. Sometimes she 
thought of telling Roy Ford how troubled she was, 
but he never spoke of such matters, and pride 
kept her silent. He talked of their future home, 
but did not mention an early marriage nor speak of 
any little economy he might practice with a view to 
hastening the happy day. He mentally constructed 
and furnished for her the home in which he would 
like to place her, but he said nothing of beginning 
in two rooms. Alas for the “ beehive made of 
straw ” ! 

Mr. Ford made fun of Ruth’s plans for study, 
and assured her that she knew enough already ; all 
which remarks only excited her laughter. Dr. 
Ross was her definition of a “ strong-minded 
woman she could fancy no one sweeter or more 
gentle than this same doctor. Homer would have 
been more interesting if Ruth could have read with 
Roy and asked him the thousand questions inspired 
thereby, but he did not see this, nor could he have 
answered her questions; so Ruth was ready with 
some query every time she went to the boarding- 


OUT OF WORK. 


153 


house, where everybody seemed to have ideas and 
to know how to express them. She hid away her 
troubles, laughed gayly, enjoyed the little gatherings 
at Mrs. J ewelPs and went to the skating-rink with 
her lover. 

It grew near the first of March, and still no 
work ; the Danish grocer began to mention the little 
bill. Altogether, it was a discouraging state of 
things. Ruth was simply out of work, and the 
larger portion of the world has learned at some 
time or other what that means. Why did she keep 
on waiting for some one to get sick ? Why did she 
not try to do something besides nursing ? She was 
a nurse, and nothing else; besides that, there was . 
nothing else to do. 

Roy Ford looked on, and knew far more of 
Ruth’s affairs than she imagined. He bided his 
time. He started a report that Miss Irving would 
do no more nursing, and thereby kept work from 

her. 

Dr. Ross and Ruth Irving sat one night in their 
cozy rooms ; they were both busy with their “ week’s 
mending,” for they were very real people, and 
needed such commonplace comforts as buttons and 
darning-cotton. The door-bell rang. 


154 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


“ I hope that is a case for me/’ said Ruth as she 
walked toward the door; but her greeting was, 
u Good-evening, Mr. Phelps. Come in ! I told 
the Doctor that I hoped the bell meant a case ; 
now I am sorry that I said it.” 

“ There is no harm done, Miss Irving. — Good- 
evening, Dr. Ross. Were you as charitably in- 
clined as this young lady?” 

“ I made no wish, Mr. Phelps ; I have learned 
to look for the unexpected.” 

“ I am ‘ the unexpected/ am I ? Where is my 
hat? No; on second thought, I will stay and 
punish you for that speech. Please observe that I 
am a committee of one.” 

“ Yes ?” said the Doctor, thoughtfully, as though 
in her inner consciousness she might have had 
doubts on the subject. 

“ We are $11 going to be at home this evening, 
and are going to have some music. I am look- 
ing up the members of the family. Mrs. Jewell 
charged me to bring you both even if I had to 
get out a writ of habeas corpus ; so wrap yourselves 
up warmly. You are both weary of sewing, 
and that bit of steel is tired of having its head 
punched.” 


OUT OF WORK. 


155 


“ Ruthie, I think we might as well go peaceably,” 
said the Doctor ; so they made ready. 

“ My soul has been hungry for music all day,” 
said Dr. Ross as they passed into the street. 

“ You play, do you not, Miss Ross ?” asked 
Mr. Phelps. 

“ No ; not on a piano,” she answered. “ I was 
always too busy to learn how, but I love music, 
and often wish that I might make it.” 

“ She does make it,” said Ruth. “ I will con- 
fess for her: the Doctor’s soul delights in solo- 
singing.” 

“ Ruth, you dreadful !” laughed the Doctor. 

“ Be careful how you step, ladies,” said Mr. 
Phelps. “ It is much warmer since sunset, and the 
light snow of the afternoon has melted. I found 
it very slippery.” 

“ It is — very,” said Ruth. “This is a native 
crossing, is it not?” 

“These are the paths the braves have trod,” 
said Mr. Phelps. 

This was before the days of Omaha’s beautiful 
asphalt pavements. One must have a personal 
acquaintance with Nebraska mud in order fully to 
understand it. Fancy a substance as slippery as 


156 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


ice, as black as tar, and which sticks like the 
traditional poor relation, and you will partly 
understand its nature. 

Mr. Phelps continued : 

“ Mr. Hills says he once spent two whole days 
in trying to find a fit comparison for Nebraska 
mud ; at last he gave it up in despair.” 

“ I did not think him so faint-hearted,” said 
Ruth. “ It reminds me of the doctrine of total 
depravity.” 

“ I think the soil of the garden of Eden must 
have been chemically much the same as that of the 
‘ Bug-Eaters’ State,’ ” said Dr. Ross. Just then 
one of her rubbers came off, and they paused while 
it was being replaced. 

“ I tied on my rubbers,” said Mr. Phelps. 

“ I have often done so,” replied the Doctor, 
“ but I did not think it necessary to-night. Never 
mind ; it all helps make up our experience in this 
Western country.” 

A warm welcome was waiting for new arrivals. 
Mrs. Jewell had brought blooming plants from the 
large window in the dining-room and placed them 
on bracket-shelves in the parlor. There were the 
fragrance of flowers, soft air, the cheer of home 


OUT OF WORK. 


157 


and its happy hearts, and all forgot that they were 
strangers and pilgrims in a boarding-house. 

“ Our walk will prove of great benefit to 
modern science,” said Mr. Phelps when they were 
seated. 

“ How so?” asked Mr. Fremont. 

“Our scientific friend Dr. Ross has solved the 
great question ; she has found the connecting-link, 
so to speak. I am going to steal her thunder, and 
to-morrow settle many of humanity’s vexing ques- 
tions.” 

“Oh, those ideas are all copyrighted,” laughed 

Ruth. 

“ And I might have made my fortune ! I have 
missed my one chance.” Mr. Phelps leaned back 
in his chair, groaning in mock agony. 

“Oh, Herbert,” cried Eva, “please explain 
yourself. How you do run on !” 

“ You see, Sis,” lie replied, “ it is like this : Dr. 
Ross says Nebraska mud is chemically much the 
same as that used in the make-up of the first man, 
Adam. Now, history shows that he and all his 
children— I should say all his boys— were full of 
total depravity unto this day. — Can’t help it, Sis ; 
it is a good strong expression. It means just what I 


158 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


want to say. — My idea was this : find the chemical 
antidote for this treacherousness in our sidewalks, 
and from that — the antidote, not the sidewalks — 
make a panacea for all human woe. Of course we 
will put it up in dollar bottles. My ! how it will 
sell !” 

“ You would take rank with Abou ben Adhem 
as one who loves his fellow-men,” said Mrs. Jewell. 

“ That dollar-a-bottle business proves his philan- 
thropy ,” added Charlie Hills. 

“ Name it ‘ Moral Soda/ ” said Miss Fleming. 

“ That I will !” laughed Mr. Phelps. “ I will 
sell it to school-teachers and lawyers’ copyists at re- 
duced rates — fifteen per cent, off, I think.” 

“ There is no one here who needs a bit of it,” said 
Mrs. Jewell; “ I would not have one of you im- 
proved if I could. Besides that, you are wasting 
time. I want some music.” 

Mrs. Jewell had music to her heart’s content — 
quartettes, duets, solos, both grave and gay. Noth- 
ing very scientific, of course, but there were no 
scientific people there to listen. 

Herbert Phelps sang “The Harvest-Time is 
Passing By.” The spirit of Music seemed to dwell 
in Miss Quick’s fingers as she played Handel’s 


OUT OF WORK. 


159 


Angels Ever Bright and Fair ;” Dr. Boss sang 
“ Strength for To-Day ;” Jessie Fleming said she 
could not sing, but she softly played and softly 
whistled “ Nothing but Leaves ;” Charlie Hills 
said he never sang white music, and so he favored 
them with “ The Little Cabins am Empty Now 
whereupon Mrs. Jewell found an old copy of 
Jubilee Singers and sang “ Mary and Martha have 
just Gone Along.” This was a new departure; 
few of her boarders had heard her sing. Of 
late years she had had no songs in her heart, but in 
her girlhood her soul had overflowed with melody. 
Now she lacked practice, but her voice was sweet, 
and her family would not be satisfied with one song. 
She said she was not up in modern music, and 
brought out a book of war-songs — one of the fruits 
of the civil war. Then she sang “ Somebody’s 
Darling ” and “ Send them Home Tenderly.” Then 
the young people tried “The Star-Spangled Banner” 
and “ The Faded Coat of Blue.” It was the first 
time some of those young people ever heard those 
songs. So far have those bloody times slipped into 
history that we, the young men and the young 
women of to-day, know little of our nation’s night- 
time songs. 


160 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Mr. Fremont walked home with Ruth. She 
talked brightly, but her thought was, “ If Roy had 
been there, how I should have enjoyed it !” Dr. 
Ross and Herbert Phelps exchanged views as to the 
chemical properties of the total-depravity side of 
human nature. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A DREAM, \ AND ITS CAUSE. 


11 The night’s dismay 
Saddened and stunned the coming day ; 
Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me 
Distemper’s worst calamity.” 


T> UTH IRVING shut the door with a bang. 

She shot the bolt into place with a force which 
made it ring ; the key gave an emphatic click in the 
lock. The noise almost drowned Roy Ford’s de- 
parting footsteps ; that was just what Ruth wanted 
it to do. She was shutting him out of her life for 
ever ; she understood him at last. And this was 
the man she had loved ! She was almost wild with 
anger. Her eyes flashed, her cheeks glowed with 
wrath. Surely “ hell hath no fury like a woman 
scorned.” She took his ring from the ribbon 
around her neck and dropped it on the glowing 
coals. How the memory of certain loving words 
and kisses scorched her soul ! If she could have 


11 


161 


162 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


burned all memory of that man, the cremation would 
have done her soul good. 

Ah ! this is a Christian country — a world run on 
humane principles ! We imprison a man for steal- 
ing bread to feed his starving children, and pass by 
on the other side of the street when faith in God 
and man, hope, trust and innocence, are slain, per- 
haps to have no resurrection. 

Ruth Irving will remember that hour to her 
dying day. This was the man whom she had 
chosen. Yes, this was he : what were the others of 
his kind? God help the girl who thus loses her 
faith in manhood. Ruth had looked on her lover 
as her equal. Yes, more than that : she had looked 
up to him as one who was to be her protector and 
helper while life lasted. She had thought to lean 
on him and be upheld, and now her faith in man- 
hood was gone. She had not told her nearest friend 
of her engagement ; she must keep the knowledge 
of this insult from her. This much Ruth’s self- 
respect demanded. True, Ruth was used to taking 
care of herself. She had much knowledge of the 
world — more, perhaps, than was good for her. So 
did Eve have a knowledge of the garden of Eden 
before she gave way to the tempting of the serpent 


A DREAM, AND ITS CAUSE . 


163 


and ate that apple plucked from the tree of knowl- 
edge of good and evil. 

Dr. Ross was with a very sick child; Ruth 
wondered when she would return. The girl made 
the room cheerful for the Doctor’s coming, shaded 
the lamp and drew the easiest chair to the stove, 
then placed Helen’s slippers before it ; she looked 
after every little detail for her friend’s comfort. 
When the clock struck eleven, Ruth went to bed 
to lie with close-shut eyes and all appearance of 
sleep, but with thoughts madly chasing one another 
through her mind. 

Dr. Ross came home and moved softly about the 
room ; she lay down beside Ruth, who feigned sleep. 
Slowly the girl’s memory was going back over her 
past life in search of something to which she could 
anchor. She wanted some sure foundation — some- 
thing that would help her to begin anew. Thought 
stopped in the room where a good man lay dying on 
that last Christmas eve. Could those friends be trust- 
ed? She thought of the motherly Mrs. Jewell, and 
her heart cried for a mother-hand to guide her out 
of her deep trouble. She thought of Herbert Phelps 
and his pure-hearted sister, but Ruth never had 
had a brother. She thought of John Anderson 


164 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


and his love for Eva Phelps ; she groaned in 
misery as she remembered that the love given her 
had been a different kind of love from that which 
made John Anderson say faintly, “ Love has made 
a better man of me.” The tender words she had 
written for the mourning mother came back to her. 
Surely that man was worthy of trust. Ah ! his 
works do follow him ; but he died, and manly 
virtue died with him. Then came the words of 
the man of prayer. Ruth remembered every one 
of them, for it was the only prayer she had heard in 
months. Slowly she repeated it, and then moaned 
as she remembered that those words were for John 
Anderson, not for her ; there was no “ Let not 
your heart be troubled” for her. And she was 
right. Jehudi’s penknife cut away the whole roll. 
There is no “ I will not leave you comfortless ” for 
the one who cuts out the first chapter of Genesis ; 
no “ In my Father’s house are many mansions” 
for him who cuts out the twenty-third and twenty- 
fourth verses of the sixteenth chapter of the Gospel 
of St. Luke. There is no “ Thy Maker is thy 
husband ” for the widowed one who with scientific 
scissors clips out “ Thou shalt have no other gods 
before me.” There is a legend of an Arabian king 


A DREAM ; AND ITS CAUSE. 165 

who built a splendid city. As he looked on its 
beauty his heart was puffed up with pride, and he 
determined to build a palace which should rival 
the mansions of paradise. He was punished for 
his presumption : he and his subjects were destroyed, 
and his palace and his gardens were placed under a 
perpetual spell which hides them from the sight of 
men. Ruth Irving thought her love and her lover 
brighter and better than the love of the Christian's 
God. Her idol proved to be clay, and the trail 
of the serpent destroyed all her dream-palaces. 

At last Ruth fell asleep, and, sleeping, dreamed. 
She wandered far out on the sweet spring prairies. 
The clear air and the bright sunshine seemed to 
make every sense almost painfully acute. She 
heard the meadow-lark's clear whistle, the chirp of 
a thousand insects and the soft murmur of waters 
in the distance. She seemed to see each feather- 
like blade of dainty buffalo-grass, the notched-leaf 
prairie-violet grew at her feet. As she wandered 
on she came to a river guarded by bluffs made 
blue by lupine blossoms ; she knew by the turbid 
waters that she stood by the Missouri. While she 
looked a wretched craft appeared in sight, and its 
one passenger — Roy Ford — pointed down, down, 


166 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


down. She turned in fright. From the top of a 
flower-covered bluff, with form outlined against a 
clear blue sky, John Anderson beckoned her to 
him, but a strange fascination held her to the spot. 

“ Ruth ! Ruthie ! Wake up ! What is the mat- 
ter?” and Ruth became conscious that Dr. Ross 
was calling her, was shaking her vigorously and 
bathing her face in strong perfume. 

At last Ruth struggled until free from the terri- 
ble chains which seemed to bind her. She was 
awake. Thank God ! The fright had been so 
great that she lay like one exhausted from a fever. 
Dr. Ross realized something of the terror through 
which she had passed, and strove by every means in 
her power to exorcise the dark spirit. 

Ruth was thankful for the morning light, for the 
dark waters of her dream became less distinct. 
She began her morning duties just as of old, but 
Dr. Ross interfered : 

“ Ruth, my child, you must sit down ; I shall do 
all the work this morning. You must play sick. 
Do you know that I think you skated too much 
yesterday ? That accounts for your troubled sleep. 
You look as if you had seen a ghost.” 

“ If you think skating was the cause of my 


A DREAM, AND ITS CAUSE. 


167 


dream, I will not skate any more,” said Ruth, 
wearily, while she had her own views as to the cause 
of her troubled sleep. 

Dr. Ross thought that she had gained a victory 
over the rink, and very wisely suppressed a good 
deal of thankfulness. 

This was not the same Ruth who had cooked the 
dainty breakfast the morning before. The girl had 
been down into the depths of her soul where only 
suffering could take her — such suffering as leaves 
on the face a trace akin to the dignity of the death- 
stamp. She shivered in the morning sunlight as she 
thought of the dark waters of her dream, on which 
Roy Ford’s wretched craft barely floated. Then she 
thought of the fair sky and the green flowery bluffs 
to which John Anderson beckoned her. She resolved 
to follow. She thought the best way to begin would 
be to live like the pure-hearted girl whom he loved. 

Ruth was not heartbroken. She had loved Roy 
Ford very much — that is, she had loved the man 
she thought he was • now she was angry and disap- 
pointed. The wind had changed quarters ; her lit- 
tle storm-tossed life-boat had veered square around. 
Her life should be managed on principles diametri- 
cally opposed to any she had ever heard Mr. Ford 


168 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


advance. It was Sunday morning; there was no 
better way to begin than by going to the church she 
knew John Anderson had attended when he was 
yet alive. It might be that the man of the bedside 
prayer would have something to say which did 
mean her. 

Dr. Ross never knew of the fierce battle fought 
so close beside her or what was the price of this 
victory of peace, but a kind God knew, and sent a 
strong and gentle angel to keep this lonely, homeless 
girl who clung to the right though it was at the 
price of the dearest that life held for her. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR. 


“The word ‘neighbor’ means our obligation, near and far, 
to every man whose life contains any want that we can fill.” 



IHE saying so common in the West, “ Most 


people leave their religion behind them when 
they cross the Mississippi,” seems quite unfounded ; 
religion is not alarmingly plentiful even east of 
that noble river. It takes a great amount of 
moral courage to attend church in a strange place 
— perhaps more to attend an Eastern than a West- 
ern church. There may be fine singing, but there 
might as well be none if no kind voice utters a 
welcome for the stranger, if no warm hand throws 
a bond of fellowship about him. In bitter home- 
sickness has many a one gone out from God’s house 
and said with the Psalmist, “ No man cared for my 
soul.” No one spoke to him, and perhaps he does 
not go any more ; by and by he leaves his religion 
behind. All this may not be right, but it is 


169 


170 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


human nature, and some fashionable church is the 
border-line, and not the Mississippi River. 

“ But they go out so quickly we don’t have a 
chance to speak to them,” you say. What about 
being “ instant in season”? Doubtless people do 
go out quickly : no one likes to be frozen. 

Before me seem to pass the long line of people 
who are often obliged to be a that stranger.” I 
plead for them. Pastors, Sunday-school teachers, 
old residents, don’t let any one go out next Sunday 
from a company of brothers and sisters by Christ’s 
blood and carry a heart chilled in a refrigerator 
where Christians form the ice. 

Dr. Ross was called out very early that morn- 
ing. Ruth made ready for church. She was not 
in the habit of going to church; she had gone 
sometimes with Dr. Ross, but she said she did not 
like that minister. Of late she had not been to 
church at all. There is nothing easier to find than 
a good excuse, and Ruth had not cared to attend 
church. Things were different now, however; she 
was glad over the brightness of the day, and felt 
safer when she joined the crowds who moved 
churchward at the hour for service. 

As Ruth entered the wide church doors her eyes 


THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR. 171 


fell upon a large card posted in a conspicuous part 
of the porch : 

STRANGERS 

are CORDIALLY requested to remain 
AND SPEAK WITH THE PASTOR. 


A pleasant voice said, 

“ Good-morning, Miss Irving ! I am glad to 
see you. Let me introduce you to some of my 
people. — Mr. Watchful, this is Miss Irving, a 
resident of our city who follows Christ in that she 
cares for his sick. — Mrs. Godly, you will be glad 
to know Miss Irving. — Mr. Greatheart, will you 
show Miss Irving to a seat?” 

It seemed to Ruth that this pastor talked all the 
time, and, some way or other, people found plenty 
of chance to speak their minds. Everybody looked 
as friendly as though the chief desire of his heart 
was to have people — strangers in particular — attend 
this church. 

Ruth followed her pilot to a seat, and almost 
held her breath in amazement. How came that 
minister — she always supposed that ministers were 
rather inferior men — how came he to remember 


172 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


the name of a nurse whom he had met but once, 
and that in a sick-room two months before? 

The solemn service began. The sweet-toned 
organ-voluntary, the invocation, the tender chant- 
ing of the Lord’s Prayer, the grand anthem, — 
none of it was for her. Then she listened to the 
reading of that wonderful second chapter of Rev- 
elation. The voice went on through the solemn 
warnings and grand promises : “ To him that over- 
cometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and 
will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new 
name written, which no man knoweth saving he 
that receiveth it.” Ruth frowned as if the words 
“ new name ” had stirred a dark memory, and said 
to herself, “All that means John Anderson, not 
me.” Then came the voice of prayer, and all 
meant some one else. No; he was pleading for 
the stranger — earnestly, as if he knew the stranger 
was before him. Surely he meant Ruth when he 
said, “Lord, cover the graves in the stranger’s 
heart with thy flowers.” How should this preacher 
know of the grave in her heart where she had so 
lately buried her dearest dream and her faith in 
manhood ? He knew that never does an audience 
gather but somebody carries a grave in his heart. 


THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR . 173 

Standing there with a teacher’s Bible open on 
his extended palm, this pastor, looked into his 
people’s faces. In those upturned faces he read 
of discouragement, of trial, of doubts, of longing 
for a better life, for comfort ; he read of homesick- 
ness and the marks of the struggle which brought 
victory. On Ruth Irving’s face there was a half- 
desperate look, and he knew this young nurse 
needed a friend — needed some sort of comfort or 
help. This pastor was a man of much sanctified 
common sense; he knew all this must be given 
very adroitly. 

Ruth pondered his words in her heart while she 
listened to the next hymn, and then came the text, 
“Antipas, my faithful martyr.” Well, she had no 
mind to be a martyr even though this Antipas had 
been remembered eighteen hundred years by the 
bare fact that he was a martyr. She felt a glow of 
enthusiasm over the vivid picture of the glory of 
the self-renunciation of martyrdom, but she had no 
desire to practice it. No ; this was not for her. 
But wait ; he was talking about faithfulness. There 
he struck the keynote of Ruth’s nature. What had 
she to be faithful to ? Only her womanly purity. 
She would be faithful, come what might. She lis- 


174 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


tened to the closing words, and drew all the comfort 
she could from them. Her face was very earnest. 

Ruth was surprised when she met the pastor at 
the church door ; he was there shaking hands with 
everybody and talking to half a dozen different 
people at once. Ruth thought he was promising to 
do something for everybody ; she heard him prom- 
ise to call on three sick people, look after Widow 
Shaw’s wayward son, write a letter of recommen- 
dation and see about work for some one else. He 
was to do all this the very next day, and he said, 

“Miss Irving, may I call on you? I could 
come almost any time when you think that you will 
be at home.” 

Ruth gave her address, and was surprised when 
the pastor promised to call the very next morning, 
saying briskly, 

“ I think I will find you before some one calls 
you to duty.” 

Ruth Irving had always supposed that ministers 
had very easy times, but this busy man gave up his 
only leisure-hour for the next week that he might 
call on her. There was a tumult in her mind when 
she reached home. She never had talked with a 
minister for ten minutes in her life. She supposed 


THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR. 175 

ministers considered themselves too good to have 
much in common with ordinary people ; she thought 
they talked of nothing but death and eternity. She 
expected this minister would talk of death or relig- 
ion every minute of his call, and maybe interview 
her as to the secrets of her inmost soul. But her 
face was toward John Anderson’s flower-crowned 
bluff ; his last whisper had been to introduce her to 
his well-loved pastor. Surely John’s pastor could 
tell her how to follow after her dead friend. 

We knock ourselves against the hard facts of life 
until we are so bruised that we cannot bear the ten- 
derest human hands ; then God sends the memory 
of the dead or angel-hands to help us over the rough 
road before us. For the dead are ours : they never 
change. 

Dr. Ross came in while Ruth was preparing din- 
ner. 

“ Why, Ruth !” she said ; “ how much better 
you look ! I am so glad, my child, for I was 
alarmed about you.” 

“ I feel better,” replied Ruth ; “ I have been try- 
ing a new prescription. Guess what it was.” 

u Save time by telling me,” returned the Doctor. 

“ You know politicians are demanding a change,” 


176 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


said Ruth, laughingly ; “ I thought a change might 
be good for me. I took the very greatest one that 
I could think of : I have been to church.” 

“ That was not only a great, but a good, change,” 
observed the Doctor. “I tell you, Ruth, it does 
not do for us women to get into ruts ; we need some 
bright changes. It is astonishing how many ner- 
vous systems are ruined by an everlasting sameness. 
"Where did you go ?” 

“ You remember I told you of a minister who 
called on John Anderson when I was at Mrs. Jew- 
ell's, do you not? I went to hear him. He remem- 
bered me and spoke to me. He even knew my 
name. I never saw him but the once. He asked 
me if he might call and see me. And oh, Helen, 
he is coming here in the morning ! What shall I 
say when he comes?” 

“ I think you had better say, 1 Good-morning. 
What a beautiful morning P That is the way most 
people begin conversation. Sometimes one has to 
say, ‘ What wretched weather P ” 

Ruth laughed and said, 

“ I will remember your suggestions. But you 
know what I mean. I don’t know how to talk to 
a minister.” 


THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR. 177 


“ I did not know that ministers required a method 
of treatment different from other people. I pre- 
sume he will be able to understand any subject you 
may mention. Talk to him as you would to Mr. 
Phelps.” 

“ I hope you will be at home when he calls,” said 
Ruth. 

“ So do I,” replied the Doctor. “ I have met 
him in some of my professional calls ; I assure you 
he is not at all terrible.” 

Dr. Ross was at home when Ruth’s caller came ; 
he did not talk religion at them. Ruth saw before 
her a very agreeable gentleman, remarkable only for 
his whole-souled Western cordiality. He manifested 
a great deal of interest in their work ; indeed, he as- 
sured them that theirs was the only calling higher 
than his own. 

“ You can help both soul and body,” he said ; “ I 
don’t have that privilege. When we stop to think 
that God made man in his own image, it is a great 
thing to understand this wonderful human body. 
Yes, I quite envy you practitioners of the healing 
art.” 

“ I think,” said Dr. Ross, “ if we oftener thought 
of that — realized that God honored our bodies in 


12 


178 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


fashioning them and meant them to be beautiful and 
healthy — we might take more pains to keep them 
so.” 

“ Yes, God meant us to be comely and healthy,” 
said the minister; “yet he honors sickness too. 
You remember he said, ‘ Greater love hath no man 
than this, that a man lay down his life for his 
friend/ Sometimes he calls one to ‘ lay down his 
life for his friend ’ in that hardest of all ways — by 
wearing it out in slow suffering.” 

“ Do you think it is a person’s duty to work for 
others to the extent of injuring his own health?” 
asked Ruth. 

“ In some cases it is not,” he replied, thought- 
fully ; “ but if it never were, patriotism would be 
folly and the lives of our firemen one long piece of 
foolhardiness.” 

Then Ruth, being drawn into this kind of talk, 
at length surprised herself by telling the pastor how 
troubled she was about work. She found him all 
attention and interest. He was sure she would have 
work soon. He would speak to his wife and some 
of the other ladies of his church ; perhaps some of 
them could help her secure a place as nurse. He 
said, 


THAT STRANGER OUR NEIGHBOR. 179 


“ In this Western country we all help one an- 
other; I should like to ask a favor of you.” 

“ What is it?” Ruth asked, quickly. “ I should 
like to do something for you if I might.” 

“ There is a woman on Thirteenth street who is 
neighbor unto you in that she needs your help and 
care. I saw her yesterday, after church, and I 
know to a certainty that her baby would be the 
better for a good bath and some womanly care. 
These are very worthy people, but, like many oth- 
ers in this country, they have had bad luck. I bur- 
ied the woman’s mother on Saturday afternoon, so 
the poor soul has a double load. If you can spend 
two hours there this afternoon, you will do her 
great good and me a great favor. Tell her that you 
are my friend, and that I sent you to her.” 

Ruth promised to do her best for the mother and 
baby who were neighbors to her in the broad sense 
of the word. She was more hopeful ; there was 
less of bitterness in her heart, and she had some 
faith in manhood, after all. 

That wily fisher of men knew this young nurse 
must be caught by getting her to work for him, 
not by hinting that she needed help herself ; she 
would rather dress a dozen babies than have the 


180 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


minister know how troubled she was. But he did 
know, for he knew the lives of working-girls in 
cities. He remembered the hunted look on Ruth 
Irving’s face as she entered the church the morning 
before ; now he knew she was out of work, and he 
understood it all. “ She shall have work within a 
week, or what good is my church to the tempted ?” 
he thought as he walked along the street. 

Now, that church is a well-organized, carefully- 
disciplined detective force, intelligence-office and 
life-saving service all combined. Its pastor ran up 
some broad steps, rang a door-bell and was admitted 
to an elegant home ; five minutes later the forces of 
the church were at work to secure a place for that 
young nurse. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


RUTH'S STORY. 


“ Where ‘ home’ was a vague and empty word, 

A child grew up— 

Where oath and blow were the only law 

******** 

Round the haunts that disgrace our Christian land.” 



came, and still no work, 


but Ruth was very hopeful. She had tried the 
surest way of curing a heartache — constant activity. 
Twice she had been to see the mother and the 
baby who were her neighbors; by so doing she 
had made their bodies comfortable and their hearts 
very glad. She had observed that there were 
other people in the city more troubled than she. 
Her natural cheerfulness was coming back. She 
cooked dainty meals on bright tin “buckets,” as 
Westerners say ; she kept the two rooms spotless. 
Still, she could not prevent an occasional spasm of 
bitterness and a deep longing to fight all the pow- 
ers that be. 


181 


182 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


After all, there are no sadder funerals than the 
private obsequies which we mentally hold over those 
who have died to our respect. If Ruth could have 
stood by and heard the solemn-voiced “Earth to 
earth” spoken over her lover, her trial had not 
been so bitter. She could have wept then, and the 
world might have known that she had a right to 
grieve ; kind friends would have come with white 
flowers and gentle words. She might have wrapped 
herself in black garments if she had wished, and 
the world w T ould have respected her grief. Now 
she could not share her Dead-Sea apples with 
her nearest and dearest friend. 

Dr. Ross was out ; Ruth opened the wide window 
and let in a flood of bright sunshine. She went 
about her work just as of old, only there were no 
snatches of song on her lip. She dropped her 
dusting-cloth and answered the postman’s ring; 
there was a letter for her, and Ruth seldom had 
letters. Surely this one meant work. The letter 
was postmarked Omaha and her name was feebly 
scrawled, as though the scribe’s energies were all 
gone before that letter needed to be written. Yes ; 
that letter was surely from some one who needed 
nursing up. 


RUTH'S STORY. 


183 


Ruth eagerly tore open the letter, but her eyes 
grew large and horrified, her cheeks bloodless, as 
she read ; she looked as though the blight of years 
had suddenly fallen on her young face. She picked 
up her duster and went on with her work ; she 
arranged a pile of Medical Records , even stopping 
to turn some of them that only the neat bindings 
might show. When she had finished her work, 
she drew pen and paper toward her and wrote 
quickly : 

“ 10.30 A. M. 

“ Dear Helen 

Then she stopped and hid her face in her hands. 

They had lived more like sisters since that fateful 

evening when Ruth had made two promises, one 

of them being that she would be a sister to Helen 

Ross, and now Helen Ross was her nearest friend. 

# 

The girl repeated Helen’s name over and over to 
herself as we sometimes moan out the names of 
our dead ; then with nervous fingers she began 
again : 

“ 10.30 A. M. 

“ Dear Helen : I have been called away sud- 
denly. I cannot tell you any more now. I do 


184 RUTH IRVING , M. D. 

not know when I shall be at home again. With 
much love, Ruth.” 

Then Ruth put on her hat and cloak and went 
hastily from the house, as if she were afraid that 
Helen might come before she got safely away. 

That day, at dusk, a closely-veiled girlish figure 
crept out of a house in the lower part of the city ; 
white-souled women shunned that house with scar- 
let curtains. The veiled woman hurried along and 
turned a corner, as if she wished to lose herself in 
the crowd or to escape a load of grief or of guilt. 
She heard quick, ringing, manly footsteps ; some 
one overtook her, and a stern voice said, 

“ Miss Irving, what are you doing in this part 
of the city at this hour, and alone? You need 
not try to hide your identity ; I should know your 
figure among a thousand women. I saw which 
house you came out of as I walked up the street.” 

“ Your voice says that unless I explain my 
business there I shall have no more to do with 
your sister. Mr. Phelps, is that your meaning?” 

The girl’s voice was defiant ; she expected re- 
proaches. Mr. Phelps answered only by an em- 


RUTH’S STORY. 


185 


phatic silence. When they reached the street-lamp, 
Ruth stopped and threw back her veil ; her face 
expressed courage and endurance : 

“ I will tell you why I went there, but perhaps 
you may not believe me ; perhaps it will not help 
me in your opinion. Mr. Phelps, I have just come 
from the protection of my father’s roof.” 

The words were full of scorn. 

“I thought you were an orphan?” he said, 
slowly. “ I am sure you told me so.” 

u I told you that I had no parents ; perhaps you 
will agree that I am worse than fatherless ? I have 
not spoken to him before in nine years ; to-day I 
was obliged to ask his aid. Not for myself, for I 
would die rather than touch one penny of his ill- 
gotten gains.” 

There was a look on the girl’s face that made 
her companion think of the muddy river and of 
how it would tell no tales. He drew her hand 
within his arm and moved on, saying slowly, 
u Ruth Irving, do you think me a good brother ? 
You helped me save my sister’s life. Do you not 
think I know how you worked for her as if she 
were your own? I vowed then that you should 
have one solid friend as long as I should live. 


186 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


Can you not trust me as Eva does ? Tell me all 
your trouble. Let me go with you ; let me protect 
you. Come, Ruth ; play that I am your big 
brother too. Tell me all about it.” 

Leaning on Mr. Phelps’s arm, Ruth told her 
humiliating story. It was hard to tell that story 
to a man whose life had never touched on the lower 
misery of the world, but she did tell it, and Her- 
bert Phelps felt his respect for this girl rise with 
every word. He began to understand something 
of her almost morbid pride in a good name. 

Home was near; Ruth ceased speaking as they 
reached the door. Her last word was almost a sob. 
Mr. Phelps drew her closer to him as they went up 
the stairs; taking both her hands in his, he said 
gently, 

“ We must act quickly. Tell Hr. Ross what you 
have told me; if she is out, I will call another 
doctor and the city missionary. 1 will come for 
you in an hour. Be sure to eat some supper ; bet- 
ter drink a cup of hot milk. Ho not go out again 
until I come.” 

The light in the window over the door told that 
Hr. Ross was at home. Mr. Phelps ran down the 
stairs and went hurriedly along the street. 


RUTH’S STORY. 


187 


Dr. Ross had returned soon after Ruth went out 
that morning ; she read the girl’s note and felt glad 
that there was a prospect of work. Then this med- 
ical-woman repeated the words “Dear Helen” to 
herself ; she looked at them as though they were 
new to her. Ho one had written them, meaning 
her, since her mother’s hand had penned them ; for 
she was strangely alone. Her letters began formally 
addressed to “ Dr. Ross.” A title is desirable, but 
a household name is a comfort. 

Dr. Ross began a gay song as she moved about 
the room. She passed into the bedroom, and said 
to herself, 

“ Ruth took nothing with her; she will not be 
gone long.” 

As night drew near Helen made the room look 
bright for Ruth’s coming; she arranged the table 
in a tasteful manner, placing on it the sweet winter 
flowers which Mrs. Jewell had brought that day. 
Supper was nearly ready when she heard Ruth’s 
step in the hall ; the girl entered the room and came 
close to the stove before she began to take off her 
cloak. 

“ Welcome home, Ruth !” said the Doctor as she 
placed the teapot on the stove. “ Where have you 


188 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


been, to get that ghastly look ?” she cried as Ruth 
turned her face toward the light. 

“ I have come ‘ back from the mouth of hell/ like 
the ( noble Six Hundred/ ” said Ruth, wearily. 

“ What do you mean ?” The Doctor paused with 
Ruth’s cloak in her hands. 

“ I mean just what I say/’ Ruth went on, in the 
same dreary way. “ You have expressed some 
curiosity as to my past life; now I will tell you 
the whole wretched story.” She pressed her 
hand to her forehead, as if making an effort to 
think. 

u Wait a moment, child ; drink this tea before 
you begin. This is almost all milk, and will give 
you strength,” said the Doctor as she brought for- 
ward the cup. 

Ruth drank the tea, and then began her story. 
She spoke like one whose senses were numbed past 
suffering : 

“ My mother died when I was two years old ; it 
was a happy thing for her, for they tell me she was 
good and pure. My father is a bad man, and he 
spends his life in making others as vile as himself. 
I had one sister, four years older than myself; father 
kept us girls with him in that dreadful place. Such 




RUTH'S STORY. 


189 


a life as we led ! I hate the name of that city ; I 
can’t think of it without a shudder. Oh how I 
hated it all ! My sister was married while she was 
yet a child — only fourteen. Her husband was a 
man just a few degrees better than my father, for he 
married her, poor thing ! About that time the au- 
thorities found me. They compelled father to give 
me up, though I think he did it gladly, for he was 
tired of me. I have an awful temper, and oh how 
I hated him ! Mrs. Irving took me to bring up. 
I begged for a new name, for I hated everything 
connected with my childhood. No one had ever 
taken the trouble to christen me, and Mrs. Irving 
let me choose my own name. I named myself 
‘ Ruth/ and they made ‘ Irving 9 legally my name. 
I tried to grow up to a pure and useful woman- 
hood. 

“ This morning I received a letter from my sister ; 
she begged me to come to her. I found her in one of 
those wretched huts on the Bottom ; she is dying of 
consumption and starvation. She is deserted by her 
wretch of a husband ; I think he placed her there 
that her disease might work the quicker. She lacks 
even the cheapest decencies of life. She begged me 
to go to father’s place and try and learn something 


190 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


of her husband, for she loves him even though he 
has been a curse to her. 

“ I knew that man — it will kill me to call him 
‘ father ’ any more — I knew he lived here, for I 
have seen him on the street. I knew, or thought, 
that he would not dare to interfere with me, for I 
know too much of his past life, and he knows my 
temper. I had no money to help my sister with, 
so I went to father’s place and begged him to do 
his duty by the woman w T ho was his child. I 
received only sneers and insulting words. Oh, I 
was wild with shame when I left his doorway. 
Mr. Phelps saw me as I came out, and, closely 
veiled though I was, he knew me. He made me tell 
him this whole miserable story. He is coming back 
here to go with me to my sister, whom I left with 
a wretched neighbor of hers. Helen, she is my 
sister ; I must go to her, though I would go to any 
sick and suffering woman. Will you go with me ? 
She can hardly live through the night.” 

Ruth had risen and was walking up and down 
the length of the room; Helen put her arm 
around the girl and walked beside her. When 
the story ended with such a pitiful appeal for her 
help, she answered: 


RUTH'S STORY. 


191 


“ Of course I will go with you. But why did 
you not come to me at first? Yet I will not scold 
you. You are my own darling sister, and we will 
help our sister who is sick. Sit down, Ruth ; you 
must control yourself.” 

The Doctor began to make hurried preparations 
for the night’s work that perhaps might be awaiting 
her. 

Ruth trembled like one in an ague-chill. Re- 
member all she had endured during the last week. 
Family pride was strong in her heart ; the knowl- 
edge that she had no family of which to be proud 
gave her a morbid desire to hide all knowledge of 
herself from the world. The memory of her 
miserable childhood was a constant thorn in her 
heart ; she had been obliged to show the wretched 
past to these people whose friendship she so prized. 
She expected only indignation and scorn • instead, 
they both had called her “sister” and had given 
strong arms for her support. Both had spoken 
tenderly of the wretched woman to whom she 
must take them. 

The Doctor placed on the stove a cup of milk, 
and when it was heated held it to Ruth’s lips, 
saying, 


192 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ Drink this now, Ruth ; then you must eat 
something.” 

“ I can’t eat, for oh, my sister has been starved 
to death !” wailed poor Ruth. 

“Yes, you must eat,” said the Doctor. “You 
must not fail us now; your sister needs you.” 

“I will not fail while poor Bessie lives,” said 
Ruth ; and she took the cup from the Doctor’s 
hand. 

The Doctor placed her medicine-case in readiness. 
Ruth pointed to the bed, and the Doctor, under- 
standing the motion, took off a blanket and Ruth’s 
pillow and made them into a bundle. 

Both were ready when Mr. Phelps called; he 
hurried them into a waiting carriage. After a few 
low words with Ruth he climbed to a seat beside 
the driver. They were on their way at once to our 
sister. 

Ruth looked up at the quiet stars. She wondered 
if there were a God above them ; if so, she won- 
dered if her sister knew him. This sister had held 
all her childhood’s love. She wished she knew the 
God the Christians talked about; she wished she 
could repeat for her sister the tender words spoken 
for John Anderson. Oh, if she could kneel in 


RUTH’S STORY. 


193 


that floorless hut on the Bottom and promise her 
sister one of those “ many mansions ” ! Surely 
they both needed a “Let not your. heart be troubled.” 
But Ruth Irving had never believed in these things. 
She felt as if both she and her sister were floating, 
floating, floating — 

Where ? 

13 


CHAPTEE XVII. 

THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 

“ The grandest words that men have heard 
Since ere the world began 
Are, 1 the fatherhood of God/ 

And ‘ the brotherhood of man.' 

Too long the night of ignorance 
Has brooded o’er the mind, 

Too long the love of wealth and power, 

And not the love of kind ; 

Now let the blessed truth be flashed 
To earth’s remotest span 
Of the fatherhood of God 
And the brotherhood of man.” 

TXTHEN you crossed the railroad-bridge which 
" " spans the Missouri Eiver between Council 
Bluffs and Omaha, did you, looking from the car 
window, notice the broad stretch of bottom-land 
along the river? Did you think how sometimes 
the muddy waters are muddier still, and, rising, 
spread their yellow tide over all this low-lying 

bottom-land? Because of this overflowing, the 

194 


THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 


195 


bottom-lands are left to lie waste, while a city has 
been built on the bluffs to the west. The city’s 
garbage- wagons have been emptied on those bottom- 
lands ; thousands of old tin cans have been carted 
thither ; so the river-bottom is not a lovely place. 
Rent is cheap there, however ; so sometimes, when 

“ unmerciful disaster 
Followed fast, and followed faster,” 

wretched dwellings have been built, and there 
God’s creatures stay until fate relents or death 
comes. 

Oh, these dwellings of the lowest poor ! The 
description of them is not pleasant reading, but by 
and by a new book will be published ; in it will be 
a history of all the failures, of all the wretchedness, 
of this world ; of all man’s “ inhumanity to man 
of all man’s inhumanity to woman. Shocking 
much of it will be, but all the critics will be speech- 
less then, for over against these sad and sickening 
records will be written a terrible “ Ye did it not ” 
for some whom this world counts very fortunate. I 
will not picture the scene in that hut on the Bottom ; 
homes like that one may be found in all parts of 
our land : our neighbors dwell in them. 


196 


RUTH TRYING, M. I). 


The stern state-messenger had come, but he was 
slow in demanding his prey. He had come for a 
woman of twenty-three years. For nine years she 
had been a wife, and in that time, after watching 
over them, weeping over them, had rejoiced that 
five puny babes went early to their graves, and so 
escaped such a life as hers. This woman had been 
so busy and so heartsick over her wretched lot that 
she had had no time to look after an entrance into 
one of those “ many mansions.” Deserted by her 
husband, disowned by her father, she had only one 
young sister to whom she could look for help, and 
the world would call her a disgrace to Ruth 
Irving. 

Unknown to Ruth, the sister had watched her 
since they were parted, years before. Sometimes 
they had met, and the sister had satisfied her hungry 
heart with one glimpse of Ruth’s bright face and 
had gone her way ; for the girl had not recognized 
her sister-features in the faded, haggard face which 
the years of misery had brought to the woman. 
But death would soon atone for all, and the wo- 
man’s heart was hungry for her childhood’s darling. 

Dr. Ross gently raised the sufferer’s head, and 
under it Ruth placed the pillow. They spread over 




THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 197 

her the blanket and held to her lips a stimulant ; 
she swallowed feebly and whispered, 

“ Little sister, can’t you tell me something of the 
future? Am I just going out in the dark ? Where 
are my babies — my little sick babies ?” 

Ruth had no help for her sister. Dr. Ross began 
repeating the promises given for lamps along the 
dark pathway, but they fell on unheeding ears. 
The neighbor-woman went back to her own cares. 
Herbert Phelps entered the room, and looked on 
pityingly. 

“ Doctor, can’t she be moved — taken to the hos- 
pital, or somewhere?” he asked. 

“ There is no time,” said the Doctor, sadly, as she 
went on with her work. 

“ ‘ No time ’ !” whispered the dying woman. 
“ Must I go so soon ? — Can’t you help me, little 
sister ?” 

“ Oh, Bessie, I cannot help myself,” said Ruth ; 
for she must be honest with the dying. 

“ A minister came here once,” the woman whis- 
pered, “ but I would not listen to him. He had 
a kind face, but I can’t think what he said. Oh, 
is there nothing for me?” 

Mr. Phelps came forward : 


198 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


“ Would you like to see a minister now?” 

“ Could he tell me what is ahead ?” 

“ Yes ; he can tell you all about it.” Then, turn- 
ing to Dr. Ross, Mr. Phelps said, “It is prayer- 
meeting night. I think the man outside can reach 
the church by the time the meeting is out.” 

“ Tell him to hurry,” replied the Doctor. Her 
fingers were on her patient’s pulse. 

The carriage was sent after the minister to speak 
words of comfort and help, for the demands of the 
dying are imperative, whether they come from 
palace or from hovel. 

John Anderson’s pastor soon stood by that dying 
woman ; he told the story of the “ place called 
Calvary.” It is wonderful in how few words that 
story can be made plain. For the dying all 
theology is narrowed down to “ For God so loved 
the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that 
whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but 
have everlasting life.” 

It was a strange group. There were the man 
of God, the stirring business-man, the womanly 
doctor, the skeptic nurse and the woman slowly 
dying. “ Our Father ” ? Yes. He is a Father to 
all his creatures. There was but one tie of kindred 



“Ye did it unto Me.” 


Page 199 








THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 


199 


blood in the group, but the nobler tie of human 
brotherhood kept all together until the soul of one 
had gone to the Father of all. 

Gently the preacher repeated the old, old story, 
and Dr. Ross worked faithfully to help keep in 
its frail tenement the fluttering life a few precious 
moments longer. 

“ ‘ They shall hunger no more : neither thirst 
any more ; neither shall the sun light on them, nor 
any heat / 99 repeated the preacher, “ ‘ and God shall 
wipe away all tears from their eyes, and there 
shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, 
neither shall there be any more pain .’ 99 

Ruth Irving began to know that God has com- 
fort for all sorrowing, penitent ones. She clenched 
her hands in agony ; great drops of sweat stood on 
her temples. To present sorrow was added the 
accumulated bitterness of years. In her helpless- 
ness she groaned, u O my God \" 

The human soul must have some support outside 
of itself ; the fact of this need is proof that some- 
where there is the power to supply the thing need- 
ed. Since mankind has had a history, shipwrecked, 
hungry, despairing and dying mankind has in 
every language voiced its need in the words “ O my 


200 RUTH IRVING, M. D. 

God !” for so have they named the motive-power of 
the universe. 

The morning stars twinkled down on the sleep- 
ing city and the frozen river-bottom. The dying 
woman opened her eyes and looked straight up 
through the miserable roof over her head. The 
“ bright white light ” swept over her face; she 
stretched out her feeble hands and cried joyfully, 
“ Oh, my babies !” and her soul was with the God 
who gave it. 

Ruth watched while Dr. Ross closed the dulled 
eyes and composed the shrunken limbs. The 
features settling into the calm of death wore the 
look of the girlhood of which the weary one had 
been so cruelly robbed. Then Ruth Irving fainted 
away. Without an effort to restore her to conscious- 
ness, Herbert Phelps lifted her into his arms and 
carried her out to the waiting carriage; then he 
kept guard over the dead while he watched the 
others ride away across the river-bottom. He 
paced to and fro in front of the hut ; he looked up 
at the countless stars and wondered if his parents 
and his friend watched his vigil. He was a man 
who had developed slowly. His life had been full 


201 


THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 

' l 

of healthy, hard work. Since the death of his 
parents no sorrow had come to him until John 
Anderson died, but now, for the third time in three 
months, he had watched the struggle with death. 
First had come the mighty fear of losing Eva ; then 
followed the loas of his best friend, and that death 
had been the beginning of a strong friendship 
between Herbert Phelps and Ruth Irving. He 
lifted his hat as he passed and repassed the hovel 
which angels had entered. He was just beginning 
to learn of what metal he was made. For the 
sake of this newly-adopted sister the nobility of 
his soul came out grandly. The frozen river-bottom, 
the dead woman in the hut, the solemn stars over- 
head, — all were teaching him of the power of the 
tie of human brotherhood. Thereafter all human 
suffering would be human suffering to him, whether 
or not it touched his own heart's treasures. Her- 
bert Phelps was a nobler, better man for having 
thus come bravely to the help of those who were 
in trouble. 

The “ chinook ” wind was springing up, and the 
light snow began to melt. It was time for the 
March rise of the river, and soon the bottom-land 
would be covered with water. That still body 


202 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


must be moved at once. There was much more 
work to be done that night. 

The fresh, warm wind and the motion of the 
carriage roused Ruth’s dulled senses. Ruth opened 
her eyes, but closed them again, moaning in the 
depths of her trouble. More than half unconscious, 
she rested on the cushions until the carriage stopped. 
The strong Swedish driver took her in his arms 
and followed Dr. Ross up the stairs and into the 
fire-lighted room, where he placed his burden on the 
bed. When the lamp was burning the driver said 
brokenly, 

“ She vas too leetle a child to be workin’ for dem 
no-goods on dee Bottom.” 

“ Is there anything we can do for you now ?” 
asked the minister as he placed the Doctor’s medi- 
cine-case on the table. 

“ No, I thank you,” the Doctor answered ; “ I 
think I can care for her, now that I have her at 
home. You have been very kind already ; I thank 
you very much for your kindness.” 

“ ‘ I serve,’ ” he quoted, with a smile. “ I will 
leave you now, but I will come again to-morrow — 
I should say, later in this day,” he added as he 
looked at his watch. 


THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 


203 


“I vill take the priest home now; den I must 
find the man what help wiv dee died. I do some- 
thing for you to-morrow;” and the big-hearted 
Swede betook himself to his duties. 

After a kind “Good-night” this minister who 
was so ready with help for every one went away to 
his own home and to the joy or the sorrow that 
might be in it. 

Hours later Herbert Phelps knocked softly at Dr. 
Ross’s door, and Helen opened it. She stepped into 
the hall and carefully closed the door behind her. 

“ She is asleep now,” said the Doctor ; “ an opiate 
did it, but it was necessary. I am very anxious 
about her.” 

“ So am I,” replied Mr. Phelps. “ Poor brave 
little girl ! How many burdens she bore so laugh- 
ingly !” 

“I am just beginning to appreciate her,” said the 
Doctor. 

“ I shall never cease to be thankful that I came 
up Tenth street as I did last night ;” and Herbert 
Phelps took out his handkerchief and muttered 
something about “ a cold.” “ Some way, the look 
1 in her eyes made me think of the river.” 

“ I am afraid that would have been her way 


204 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


out,” said the Doctor. “ With her beliefs and her 
unbeliefs, I am surprised that she has endured so 
much.” 

“ She slia’n’t want for a friend to fight for her 
while I am above ground. I told her that I would 
be a brother to her, and I meant what I said.” 
Then Mr. Phelps changed the subject: “The re- 
mains are at the undertaker’s rooms. The poor 
woman shall have a decent funeral ; it will be to- 
morrow morning. Will you go over with us ? 
Mrs. Jewell will stay with Ruth if she is not 
strong enough to go out. Now is there anything 
that I can do for you ?” 

Ruth slept far into the day. 

“ I think she has escaped brain fever,” said the 
Doctor when the minister called. 

The kindly man wondered at the look on Ruth’s 
face — wondered as he thought of the despair in her 
face when she had entered his church the Sunday 
before, and at the eagerness with which she listened 
to the sermon. He thought of the manly man 
who, dying, had placed this girl in his care. Do 
the dying have prophetic vision ? He accepted his 
dead friend’s trust. He knew there was much of 


THE BROTHERHOOD OF MAN. 


205 


this which he did not understand — much that never 
would be explained to him ; but he covenanted with 
his God that he and the forces of his church should 
do all in their power to shield this young, beautiful, 
free-thinking nurse. 

Whatever the minister thought as to Ruth’s rela- 
tion to the dead woman, he wisely held his peace on 
the subject. He sat by the troubled girl and spoke 
of the tender Father care over all, and of how God 
sometimes loves and pities us most tenderly even 
when his ways seem hardest. He spoke of the 
great love-pardon even at the eleventh hour, and of 
how the light of heaven seemed shining on the quiet 
face. Ruth listened, while her face had the look of 
impassive clay. The next morning Ruth was still 
unable to leave her bed, and Mrs. Jewell came and 
sat by her and scolded her gently for over-doing. 

One carriage followed a plain hearse upon the 
way to the cemetery, and Ruth’s three faithful 
friends stood by while the worn-out body was laid 
to rest beside that of John Anderson. 

“ Why, Mr. Phelps, this is your lot, is it not ?” 
asked the minister as they turned away from the 
grave. 


206 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ Yes,” said Herbert, “ and there is John's last 
earth-dwelling. This is my family-lot, for I believe 
in the ‘ fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE NEXT THING. 

“ When the song’s gone out of your life, you can’t start an- 
other while it’s a-ringing in your ears ; but it’s best to have a 
bit of silence, and out of that maybe a psalm’ll come by and 
by.” 

r IFE to Ruth was one great interrogation-point. 

She had not ceased to be surprised at the readi- 
ness with which her friends came to her help after 
they knew her history and her present trouble. She 
did not recognize the nobility of the fight she had 
made for a life far removed from stain. Helen Ross 
made her understand something of her friends’ re- 
gard for this brave striving, but Ruth felt deadened 
to praise or to blame. Her sister was dead, but her 
father would always be a plague-spot in her life. 
She dreaded to go out lest she should meet him on 
the street. Ruth Irving could not say “My father” 
with that tender pride with which Helen Ross spoke 
of her father and the childhood’s home in Rock 


207 


208 


RUTH IRVING , M. I). 


Island. Then, what was this life? Was it only a 
glimmer of light between two clouds, one of which 
rested on the bluff’s held sacred as a burial-place, or 
was it the dawning of endlessness, sad or glad ? 

Faith and hope and cheer seemed withered within 
Ruth Irving’s soul. She thought there was no use 
in trying any more. She could not see that, ex- 
hausted as she was by nervous excitement, watching, 
grief and the wrath which had scorched her soul, 
she was in no condition to attack questions which 
baffle the strongest minds. She rose from her bed 
and went listlessly about the two rooms. She told 
herself there was no use in trying any more. She 
had tried to go out from her old ways of thinking 
and to adopt others of which she knew nothing. 
She had heard many vague and often misguiding 
remarks about faith and resignation. She thought 
she must make herself feel satisfied, and perhaps 
bright and happy. But she could not do it. She 
would have seen the folly of trying to cure a bod- 
ily ailment in the manner in which she treated her 
aching heart. 

Several days went by, and Ruth appeared as 
though the burden of living were too great for her 
strength. Dr. Ross became alarmed anew. Her- 


THE NEXT THING. 


209 


bert Phelps called often, and Eva spent every 
spare moment with her friend. One night she 
called on her way home from school. In her hand 
she carried a great bundle of examination-papers, 
which she brandished in the air as she cried gayly, 
“ Ruth Irving, thank your guiding star that you 
are not a teacher ! Look at these papers ; every 
one of them must be read and marked before I 
sleep. Some of this philosophy is new and start- 
ling; some of my pupils exercise their originality 
in the matter of spelling , only, while their natural 
history would make Professor Agassiz shudder 
even in his grave. I have a mind to make you help 
me with these papers.” 

Eva threw off her hat and began sorting papers ; 
soon she had Ruth at work. Dr. Ross came home 
and was pressed into service ; so the teacher’s work 
was swiftly lightened. 

“ I ought to require you to go and see some of 
my patients in return for all this labor,” said the 
Doctor, laughingly. 

“ I should be delighted to go,” replied Eva. 
“ I will prescribe exercise, air, bathing, for every 
one regardless of the nature of their ailment.” 

“ And ruin my business,” the Doctor exclaimed. 

14 


210 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ No, indeed ! If that is to be your method of 
treatment, they all would very soon be beyond my 
reach.” 

“I don’t care about your other patients, but I 
shall take Ruth home with me,” said Eva ; “ Mrs. 
Jewell charged me not to appear without her. I 
promise to have her well very soon. Don’t you 
dare to say one word against it, because she is 
going.” 

“ It would do her good. — Do you feel strong 
enough to go, Ruthie?” asked the Doctor. 

“Yes; Ruthie feels strong enough,” said Eva. 
“ I learned how to manage sick people when I was 
under her jurisdiction. I am so glad over the 
help I have had with those examination-papers 
that I think I shall have a picnic, so to speak, this 
evening. — Will the night-air hurt Ruth?” she 
asked as she and Ruth put on their cloaks. 

“Indeed, the night-air will not hurt her,” an- 
swered the Doctor. “The night-air is the very 
best kind of air we have at this time of day ; it 
was made for us to breathe.” 

Left alone again, Helen Ross, M. D., went 
cheerily about her two rooms. She hoped that 
this change would benefit Ruth very much. She 


THE NEXT THING. 


211 


told herself that the healthful atmosphere of Mrs. 
Jewell’s boarding-house was just what was needed 
to restore the girl’s morbid fancies to their proper 
tone. 

After supper this medical-woman took down a 
book on nervous diseases and planned a long even- 
ing’s study. Between her eyes and the page came 
the vision of a manly face with earnest blue eyes. 
She thought what a good friend Ruth had in 
Herbert Phelps. She tried to study, and found 
herself thinking of a poem which Mr. Phelps had 
read to them the day before. It was on the brother- 
hood of man, and reminded her of Mr. Phelps’s 
words as they turned away from Ruth’s sister’s 
grave : “ This is my family-lot, for I believe in 
the i fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of 
man.’” 

Something like a schoolgirl blush came over the 
Doctor’s face as she, sitting alone, thought of the 
way Hei bert had said “ my family.” She wished 
she knew that poem. She wondered who wrote it ; it 
seemed to be a cutting from a newspaper. Mr. 
Phelps had taken it from his pocket. Why did he 
not offer it to her? At least, he might let her 
copy it. She would ask him for it. No; she 


212 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


would not. He might have known she would 
like it. She would not say one word about it. 

On the whole, this medical-woman’s line of 
thought was quite like a schoolgirl’s. She devoted 
her mind to her book for five minutes ; then she 
wondered what they were doing at the boarding- 
house. Yes ; she certainly was very anxious about 
Ruth Irving. Then she decided that Herbert 
Phelps had missed his calling : he should have 
been a doctor. It was so vexing to see a natural 
medicine-man devote his energies to selling soft 
coal ! 

Ruth needed rousing, but neither Dr. Ross nor 
Eva Phelps guessed the relief the poor girl felt in 
leaving the rooms in which so much of trial had 
come to her in so short a time. She spent the 
evening alone with Eva. 

The next day Mrs. Jewell’s society made Ruth 
feel still more deeply the loss in her own mother- 
less girlhood. 

Mr. Phelps reached home before dinner-time. 
He found Ruth seated in a snug corner of the 
dining-room ; she wanted to be near Mrs. Jewell. 
Ruth said she was playing invalid. She held a 


THE NEXT THING. 


213 


book iii her hands, but Herbert assured her that 
the book had been neglected, and ventured the 
opinion that she did not know the heading of the 
first chapter. He expressed some sympathy for 
the neglected author ; then he possessed himself of 
the book and said gayly, 

“Say, sister, how would you like a ride this 
afternoon ? I have some collecting to do, and 
should be glad of your company. The air is 
glorious. — Mrs. Jewell, don’t you think a drive 
would put some color into this girl’s white cheeks ?” 

“I do,” said Mrs. Jewell as she came forward 
with a glass of tender celery in her hand. “ Mr. 
Phelps, how is it that you are so early to-day ?” 

“ Things were a trifle dull in the office, so I 
got out half an hour in advance of time. I wanted 
to get ahead of Charlie. I fancy great minds 
think alike for once, and I have the best right to 
Ruth, for she has promised to be my sister. Oh, I 
don’t propose to be left desolate when Eva goes 
off with that Denver chap. It will not hurt Char- 
lie to remain behind for once. Help keep him 
humble, perhaps.” 

“ You are very selfish,” said Ruth, with a little 
laugh. 


L 


214 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


“ Of course I am ; all is fair in love, war and 
this Western country.” 

Theu Mr. Phelps stopped and whistled at the 
bird ; after which, he continued : 

“ That laugh of yours is worth ten times more 
than all the stings of conscience my selfishness will 
cause me.” 

“ Your conscience !” Ruth exclaimed. “ Why, 
only last week you told me that your conscience 
was away on a vacation.” 

“ It was,” said Mr. Phelps, gravely, “ but it has 
returned, and is much invigorated. I hear Char- 
lie’s gentle footsteps. I wonder where the rest of 
the people are? It is time for the exercises to 
begin.” 

“ Those people coming up California street look 
like my children,” said Mrs. Jewell as she went to 
the window and while watching picked a dry leaf 
from a large scarlet geranium. “They have a 
wonderful faculty of overtaking one another. It 
reminds me of the way we children used to go in 
troops.” 

The “ people” entered the dining-room glowing 
with health and exercise ; every one had a pleasant 
greeting for Ruth. When all were seated at the 


THE NEXT THING. 


215 


table, Charlie Hills spoke up in his impetuous 
manner : 

“ Oh, Mis3 Irving, it is a proper day for a ride. 
Will you go out with me this afternoon ?” 

“ I have promised the afternoon to Mr. Phelps,” 
Ruth answered; “otherwise, I would go with 
pleasure.” 

“ And that is why he rushed off before office- 
hours were over?” said Charlie, dolefully. “I 
knew something would happen.” 

“How do you know when I left the office?” 
Herbert asked as he paused with the sugar-spoon 
halfway to his coffee-cup. 

“ My son, it is my business to know everything,” 
said Charlie; “that little item was right in my 
line. — But, Miss Irving, the signs of the times are 
that to-morrow will be even more glorious than 
to-day. Will you go with me to-morrow morn- 
ing?” 

“ I promise that she shall go,” said Mrs. Jewell. 

“Then Charlie is not so far behind, after all,” 
said that worthy. — “ Phelps, I think I have heard 
you argue in favor of the delights of anticipation. 
Miss Irving and I will enjoy our ride doubly.” 

“ ‘ A bird in the hand — * You know the rest,” 


216 


RUTH IR VINO, M. D. 


laughed Herbert Phelps. “ To-day is lovely, but 
we may have a forty-horse-power blizzard by 
to-morrow.” 

“Mr. Phelps is at the gate,” said Mrs. Jewell 
early in the afternoon. 

Ruth was soon seated in the carriage. They 
waved Mrs. Jewell a farewell, and the spirited 
horse sprang off as if glad to show the life which 
bounded through his veins. They had driven only 
a few blocks when Ruth suddenly clutched her 
companion’s arm. He looked at her in surprise, 
but her white lips only said, 

“ That man !” 

A middle-aged man was walking toward them. 
His face showed marks of dissipation ; his chief 
characteristic was wicked cunning. The expression 
on his features as he looked at Ruth inspired Her- 
bert Phelps with a desire to jump from the carriage 
and knock him down. 

The man put out his hand and caught the horse 
by the bit ; the animal stopped instantly. Herbert 
Phelps gathered the reins firmly in his right hand 
and deliberately placed his left arm around Ruth, 
who by that time was thoroughly frightened. 


THE NEXT THING . 


217 


Neither of the men spoke, but each gave the other 
a whole broadside of hate in a look. A policeman 
accompanied by a mild-looking gentleman in citi- 
zen’s garb came up at that moment. 

“ What does this mean ?” asked he of the blue 
coat. 

“ I don’t know,” said Mr. Phelps. “ This fellow 
stopped my horse; now I am waiting for him to 
state his business.” 

The mild gentleman had already slipped a bright 
bracelet on the wrist still raised to the horse’s bit ; 
the bracelet’s mate was locked around the detective’s 

arm. 

“ I trust you will excuse him,” said the detective ; 
“ our business is quite urgent.” 

“ Who sent you after me ?”. cried the man as he 
turned on his captor. 

“ Keep quiet, or you are a dead man. It don’t 
take much sending where such fellows as you are 
concerned. You are to take a little trip back East ; 
you are wanted for some of your devilment. It is 
my opinion it will be some time before you come 
back here to raise trouble in your favorite fashion. 
Begging the lady’s pardon, but we take our coons 
while they are treed.” 


218 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Then Ruth noticed what her companion saw at 
the start : the policeman’s pistol was ready for use. 

“ Poor little girl !” said Mr. Phelps as they drove 
on. “ I am sorry our ride has had such an unpleas- 
ant beginning.” 

“ I am glad I know of his arrest,” said Ruth ; 
“ I shall feel safer now. I have been terribly afraid 
of him since that night. There is something in 
your Bible about honoring one’s parents, but I can- 
not honor him.” 

“ It is his own fault, not yours or my Bible’s,” 
said Herbert Phelps. “No one wants you to go 
around honoring such an old sinner as he is. There 
is also something in the Bible about a father’s duty 
to his child ; that man has proved unworthy of his 
child’s respect. I should think people would look 
at this side of the question a little oftener. The 
Bible does not instruct you to honor him ; he is 
your worst enemy, and the enemy of every right- 
thinking man, woman and child in this city. If 
he wished to reform and you could help him, the 
case would be very different; but for the present 
don’t reproach yourself because you can’t honor 
him. Now, Ruthie, for your friends’ sake try to 
think no more of him. Let us cheer you up and 


THE NEXT THING. 


219 


make you happy. The future is all before you, 
aud something in it may be full compensation for 
all you have suffered. Let us change the subject. 
See that flock of brants. Lid I ever tell you how 
I went hunting last spring ? No ? Well, it was 
this way. When I was a boy, I used to fool with 
a gun, and liked the sport; so, of course, I made 
one of a goose-hunting party last spring. My gun 
was a stranger, and first impressions were very un- 
pleasant. I got a sight at a flock of brants and 
blazed away. It was too much blazing ; that gun 
was worse than a broncho. Like Sancho, I was a 
man who had been grievously kicked. Both bar- 
rels went off at once. I had a black eye and the 
brants had a fright. Hills started the story that I 
was shooting at a flock on the wing and made such 
havoc that as they fell one struck me on the head. 
I endured no end of chaffing from the boys. I 
think Mrs. Jewell almost pitied me. Now I say 
with Bryant, 

1 Vainly the fowler’s eyes 
Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong.’ 

Luck-hunting is not my mission ; it is too uncertain. 

I would rather go fishing. Just notice that cottage 


220 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


on the corner ; I had some experience there about 
a month ago. I was out collecting. After I rang 
that bell I heard a great commotion in the hall ; 
they seemed to have lots of trouble. After a while 
the window by the door was raised, and a woman 
put her head out. She looked me over, and de- 
cided that I w r as not an agent. She said, ‘ Will you 
please wait? The baby has lost the door-key; I 
will find it soon/ I waited. The day was warm, 
and I sat down on the step and meditated while I 
timed the search. It was seventeen minutes and 
twenty-three seconds before that key was found. 
You should have seen that woman’s face when she 
learned my business.” 

So Herbert talked on, not seeming to expect any 
replies, until Ruth began to take an interest in the 
objects they were passing. They w r ere well out 
from the city, having driven over the bluffs, past 
the location of the old State capitol, and then on to- 
ward the north-west. 

“ How desolate it all looks !” said Ruth, pointing 
to the blackened bluffs in the distance. She was 
still in a mood to see all the dreariness of the scene, 
and to feel that it was in harmony with her life. 
Not so the man beside her: 


THE NEXT THING. 


221 


“No, Ruth, not desolate, but dark. We are not 
Sadducees; we know there will be a resurrection. 
In a few weeks we will see brilliant green beauty 
instead of ashes. Over there is the city of the 
dead. Do you see that young cottonwood on the 
bluff? I have stood under its branches twice this 
winter. We may look for beautiful life from the 
ashes which cover the burnt prairie ; surely we may 
look for still richer beauty from the dear dust we 
left under that cottonwood, and gladness from the 
hardest things of this life. We must wait and 
trust.” 

That night Ruth lay resting on the couch while 
the boarders were in their rooms preparing for sup- 
per. Charlie Hills was singing: 


u 1 Sure, it’s a short story 
I’m bound to relate ; 

If you pay close attention, 

I won’t make you wait.’ ” 

Ruth was disgusted ; she wondered if that man 
ever did have a sober, sensible idea in his head. 
She decided that the man who always tries to be 
funny is the most tiresome of all tiresome people. 


222 RUTH IRVING, M. D. 

She half regretted that she was to ride with him the 
next day. 


“ 1 My father he lived 

In a place called Remote ; 

He’d a cow and a pig 
And a fine billy-goat.’ ” 

The singer went on with his song ; a door closed 
with a bang, and in another minute the irrepressible 
Charlie was entering the supper-room. 

In reply to some of Miss Quick’s remarks Mr. 
Fremont said, 

“That reminds me of the last account of the 
excavations — ” 

“ Fremont, I beg you, don’t!” Charlie Hills ex- 
claimed. “ Verily, all roads lead to Rome. — Miss 
Irving, did you know that Mr. Fremont has gone 
raving wild over excavations and things ? In the 
morning he talks of Ilium; at noon, of Iliad; at 
night, of Ilios.” 

“ Hold on, Charlie ! I have not reached Ilios 
yet,” said Mr. Fremont. — “ Miss Irving, you shall 
be the very first person to whom I lend that book, 
for I am going to buy it soon.” 

“ My father is completely gone on that book,” 


THE NEXT THING. 


223 


said Charlie. “ I put in all my spare time while at 
home reading Ilios,” 

“And you have been back here a whole week and 
have not told me one word about it !” exclaimed 
Eva Phelps. 

“ Hear that from a young lady who dubbed these 
explorations ‘espionage’ !” said Charlie. “ I thought 
you professed to be a woman without curiosity ? I 
have regarded you as a lovely nucleus for a dime 
museum.” 

“ I think I shall redeem my credit for curiosity 
by ordering Ilios as soon as the time comes for me 
to draw my salary again,” said Eva as she joined 
in the laugh. 

“ Good !” said Charlie ; “ and when you have 
finished reading that, read Ramona and Mr. 
Harsha’s Ploughed Under,” 

“ Yes,” said Herbert Phelps ; “ those books will 
bring your sympathies back to the present day and 
a vanishing people.” 

“ There is Fremont,” said Charlie ; “ he is at this 
moment living in prehistoric times. He is so busy 
with the Trojans that he forgets to nickel-plate the 
hand-organ man.” 

“Charlie, you see too much when you look,” 


224 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


said Mr. Fremont ; he was beginning to lose 
patience. 

“ Can’t help it,” Charlie returned, calmly. “ But 
you come up to my room after supper, and I will 
consent to an interview; and the subject shall be 
llios.” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 

“ Blessed the man whose life, how sad soe’er, 

Hath felt the presence and still keeps the trace 
Of one pure woman.” 

T HHE next day was clear and bright. Life seemed 
to quiver in the bracing air. 

At an early hour Charlie Hills and Ruth Irving 
were off for their ride. Herbert Phelps smiled as 
they passed his office. He was glad of the bright- 
ness of the day, glad that Ruth was going out for a 
ride, yet very glad that she had gone with him first. 
He felt that in some way Ruth belonged to him — 
that he had a first claim to her society. He wished 
he were a married man. If the ideal home and 
the ideal wife were his, he might invite Ruth 
Irving to the shelter of his own roof, where the 
ideal wife would cheer and nurse the heartbroken 
girl until she became the happy, energetic Ruth 
of old. A mist gathered in his eyes as he thought 

15 225 


226 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


of Ruth’s troubles. That mist was the lens through 
which this stirring young business-man saw his 
office changed to a cozy room where, on either side 
of the hearth, w r ere seated his sister by birth and 
his sister by manly adoption. Just in front he 
fancied he saw his own chair placed, and beside it 
a face and a form. Some way, his fancy stopped 
short there ; he felt that it would be almost sacri- 
lege to try to fancy that face. What would that 
face be like when God sent it into his life? This 
was all during business-hours; Mr. Phelps kept 
up two trains of thought that morning. 

Dr. Ross came down the street accompanied by 
a handsome stranger. Mr. Phelps lifted his hat 
and smiled cordially, but his mental comment was, 
“ What in the world is she doing with that puppy ?” 
Helen A. Ross, M. D., was a trial to him. He 
liked her well enough, but she was a doctor, and he 
did not approve of professional women. It was 
a great pity that she was a doctor, though he did 
not explain why medicine is a more unwomanly 
profession than teaching. Dr. Ross did well enough 
that dreadful night on the Bottom : no hand need 
be firmer, no one could have been more thoughtful ; 
but it was a pity that she must endure such scenes. 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD . 


227 


He did not reflect that the nurse was a delicate wo- 
man, and so, alas ! was the sufferer. 

Mr. Phelps watched this doctor as she moved 
along the street. She was an attractive woman 
tastefully dressed, but the medicine-satchel w r as 
not a shopping-bag; worse still, the red edge of 
her prescription-book showed above the edge of 
her pocket. Two men were waiting to speak to Mr. 
Phelps, but he turned to catch one last glimpse of 
the Doctor, and gnawed his moustache savagely as 
he went about his duties. He made no more 
fancy-pictures that morning. 

Meanwhile, Charlie Hills and Ruth Irving en- 
joyed their morning ride. 

“ Miss Irving, don’t you think this is a beautiful 
w T orld ?” asked Mr. Hills. 

“ Yours must have been a happy boyhood if you 
think the world so beautiful,” was Ruth’s reply. 

“Mine was a happy boyhood, but boyhood 
slipped away, manhood and sorrow came, and still 
I think the world beautiful.” 

“ You speak like an aged man,” said Ruth. “ I 
fancied you and boyhood had not fully parted 
company.” 

“I hope we never shall,” he said, smilingly. 


228 


RUTH IRVING , M. I). 


“ But I have voted at three Presidential elections ; 
that ought to make me seem venerable.” 

u A problem,” she laughed. “ Three times four 
are twelve ; plus twenty-one — Is it possible that 
you are thirty-three years old?” 

“ My mother’s Bible makes it thirty-four. I 
felt every day of it when I was at home and a ten- 
year-old called me ‘ papa.’ ” 

“ Called you ‘ papa ’ !” 

“ Yes. I thought you knew that I have a 
child?” 

“ I begin to think that I don’t know anything 
about you,” said Ruth, slowly. 

Mr. Hills reined his horse down to a walk and 
studied the whip-socket while he said, 

“ I don’t speak of her very often. Not because 
I do not think of her, but thoughts of her are too 
deep for words when I am so far away from her. 
You would say that the brown blutfs make a sad 
picture ; to me they seem warm and glad when I 
think of the snowdrift which covered my wife’s 
grave when I saw it two weeks ago. Winter lingers 
longer there than here, and a cold blanket covers 
her yet.” 

“ How long ago — ” Then Ruth stopped ; she 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 


229 


had never before heard Charlie Hills mention wife 
or child. “ You don't like to speak of this?" 

“ Sometimes I do. I will tell yon our story, if 
you would like to hear it. We played together 
when children ; w r e were lovers all our lives. We 
were married when she was sixteen and I was 
twenty-one. We were too young to marry, but I 
did not know it then. For three years we were 
as happy as any one ever is this side of heaven ; 
then she went up higher, and left a little girl to 
comfort me. My wife's mother wanted to keep 
the baby, and, feeling that I had taken her only 
child from her, I gave her our baby. At first I 
thought I was heartbroken. I came out here, and 
have tried to make a man of myself just as though 
she had lived. I must work for my daughter's 
sake. Would you like to see her?" 

Charlie drew the reins over his arm and took 
from his pocket a dainty leather case. It contained 
two cabinet photographs; one represented a fair girl- 
woman, the other a laughing, sunny-haired child 
of ten. 

Tears came to Ruth's eyes as she looked on those 
two strange faces. There was something very 
touching in the history of this fun-loving friend. 


230 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


Mr. Hills placed the case in his pocket, and, 
gathering up the reins, went on with his story : 

“ I have learned many bitter lessons during the 
ten years in which I have tried to live without her. 
At first I tried to cure my grief ; I have gotten over 
that. Now I am content to wear it to my grave, 
thanking God that he gave the grief and loneliness 
to me instead of to her ; for my darling was happy 
while she lived. I think that is the way with true 
love. Nothing is so hard as the knowledge that 
our dear ones suffer. Don’t get the idea that I am 
unhappy. I was desperate, wild and wicked at 
first, but I learned to bear it. Not because I must, 
as you would say; there is none of that kind of 
endurance in me. I should shoot myself if I tried 
it. See here ! I know that I shall run against 
some of your pet theories. She believed in religion 
and in eternity ; I know past all doubting that her 
soul did not go out in the dark. ‘ She is my angel 
who was my bride/ and I never forget for a moment 
that her spirit is with me. I sent a message to her 
when John Anderson went out to the other world. 
Long before this they have met and talked of the 
baby and me and how I have been faithful to the 
love of my boyhood. The Jesus she trusted gives 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 


231 


me a lift when things get dark. You see, she is 
fixing up one of those ‘ many mansions ’ while wait- 
ing for me. She used to plan how she would like 
to fix up our home ; now she can gratify her taste. 
Some day God will let her lean down and call me ; 
then — But I am in no hurry to go ; every day I 
ask God that he will let me stay in this world until 
my daughter is grown to womanhood and able to 
take care of herself.” 

Here was something which Ruth had never had 
— a true father’s love. 

Mr. Hills was saying, 

“ I don’t like to think of the trials of homeless 
girls. I want to give my child a practical training ; 
her education must make her self-helpful. I want 
her to be able to earn a living at some work not 
quite murderous. Now, Miss Irving, when you 
hear the rattle-headed remarks of ‘ that Charlie,’ as 
Fremont says, don’t say, ‘ Still waters run deepest.’ 
That old saw may be true in the main, but the 
whirlpool rapids are not shallow’. Much of the 
laughter in the world is only the sound of some fel- 
low being dashed against hard facts. There is such 
a thing as brave laughter, but it is sadder than tears. 
Don’t judge people by the amount of fun they make. 


232 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


I think some of my saddest moments are spent in 
fixing up our funny column.” 

“ You are peculiar in that you grieve so long,” 
said Ruth. “ Most men outlive a grief of that 
kind in less than ten years.” 

“ Perhaps,” he said, while his eyes followed the 
flight of a flock of brants. “At home they asked me 
if I intended to marry again. She taught me a 
high respect for womanhood ; I will not ask another 
woman to be my wife while my heart still longs for 
the bride of my youth. I have hungered for her 
face every day for ten years. Fremont pesters me 
constantly. He thinks he wants to room with me ; 
he can’t understand why I refuse. Not one man in 
a hundred can feel another’s troubles as a true wo- 
man will. I could not endure his constant pres- 
ence ; I must have her, or no one. Nobody shall 
drive my angel-wife from my room. She never 
minded my racket. Hear that meadow-lark ! Lis- 
ten, now. I can whistle as well as he and Charlie 
Hills made the air ring with a whistle wonderfully 
like the “meadow-lark’s one refrain.” 

The surface ahead was broken by bluffs and 
draws with fertile divides between. Farmers were 
ploughing up the rich brown earth or raking corn- 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 


233 


stalks into great piles which burned with the swift- 
rushing flame characteristic of prairie-fires. 

u You see, my life has not been all boyish, though 
you have considered me very boyish,” said Charlie. 
“ I told you a little while ago that I know my wife 
lives again in a more peaceful world, but you will 
say that I cannot prove it. You cannot prove that 
those blackened bluffs will ever be covered with 
blooming green again, but you know they will. 
’Way back in the infancy of our race a Voice prom- 
ised that seedtime and harvest should not fail ; later, 
from the same authority, came the words, 1 1 am the 
resurrection and the life/ and I believe those words. 
They say a woman learns to trust much more eas- 
ily than does a man ; it must be so, for it took me 
years to learn that simple lesson. I think my trou- 
ble was that I tried to learn it too rapidly. I 
thought I must make myself submissive; I have 
learned better. It has to be done a little at a time. 
Go watch them work on water-color portraits, and 
you will understand what I mean. The print is 
dim at first. The artist goes to work ; for hours he 
does nothing but stipple. After a while the com- 
plexion is clear, the cheeks are rounded, the lines 
are distinct ; you can almost see human flesh in the 


234 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


picture. So it is that I am stippling away on my 
faith in things. My business is against me ; I must 
necessarily see much of the worst side of life, and it 
is hard to remember that beauty springs from mud. 
There is something to admire even in the most 
dreary picture ; there is something of God, and 
there is possible glory, in the most wicked heart.” 

These words were much like those Ruth had 
heard the day before, yet they were very different. 
Charlie Hills had lived too deeply to go about 
giving advice to troubled souls. Ruth wondered 
if he knew her story ; she felt certain that much 
of it was down in his note-book. Jessie Fleming 
said that newspaper-men were supposed to know 
everything ; here was a newspaper-man who had a 
talent for finding out things. Ruth was studying 
the science of bearing trouble; she was sure the 
story had been told to help her. Here was another 
man whose love had brought him pain, but who 
held the pain as precious because it was a part of 
that love. Ruth would be just; she would judge 
fairly : there are honorable men in the world. She 
would pick up her life and go on, hoping and 
working for the best; she would live down the 
doubts she could not kill. Charlie knew his wife’s 


A BEAUTIFUL WORLD. 


235 


soul was immortal ; Herbert Phelps was sure about 
these things, so were Mrs. Jewell and Dr. Poss, 
and millions of other people. Then there was 
John Anderson ; she must keep her soul pure, for 
she had one friend in a world more beautiful than 
this. 


CHAPTER XX. 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


“ We rise by things that are under our feet — 

By what we have mastered of good or gain, 

By the pride deposed and the passion slain, 

And the vanquished ills that we hourly meet.” 

UTH went to her room ; she seated herself in 



a rocker by the window. She would think it 
all over. She had shed no tears since she locked 
Roy Ford out of her life. She thought of him; 
she hoped she might never see him again. She 
longed for a faith like that of Charlie Hills. Could 
she ever say of any loved one, “ I know past all 
doubting”? 

The thought of the hidden sorrows of the world 
brought tears to the girl’s eyes. The young wife 
in that snow-covered grave, the motherless daughter 
in the Eastern home, were for ever present in the 
mind of that newspaper-man. The sadness was all 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


237 


hidden ; the world saw a smiling face. Then Ruth 
thought of her own deep trouble. The old hatred 
for her father was gone ; Ruth wished she might 
help him to be a man of honor and truth. She 
wondered on what charge he had been arrested. 

The hoarse whistle of the Union Pacific shop 
sounded for noon, and still Ruth’s eyes were wet 
with tears. She rose and bathed her face. She 
brushed out her long brown hair, then bound it in 
glossy coils about her pretty head. The hairdress- 
ing was scarcely over before Dr. Ross and Eva 
Phelps entered the room. Their cheeks were glow- 
ing with health and from the fanning of the 
strong Western wind. 

“ My girl is quite herself again,” said the Doctor 
as she stood before Ruth and studied her face. 

“ Of course she is,” said Eva as she began stick- 
ing invisible hairpins into her blond frizzes. “ I 
believe you gave her too much scientific scrutiny.” 

“ Ruth knows we doctors are only human beings,” 
returned Dr. Ross as she moved to the bookcase 
and took down a book. “We don’t think of 
nerves and tissues all the time. There is your 
dinner-bell ; I must go. — Ruth, when are you 
coming home?” 


238 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“She is not going home for a long time yet,” 
said Eva. “ Can’t you stay and take dinner with 
us, Doctor?” 

“ I must not, to-day, I thank you and the 
medical-woman passed into the sunlight, while Eva 
and Ruth turned toward the dining-rooom. 

“ I thought Dr. Ross was up stairs,” said Mrs. 
Jewell. “ Where is she?” 

“She stands by the gate talking with Charlie 
Hills,” said Eva. “ I asked her to stay to dinner, 
but I think she needs coaxing.” 

“ You go and tell her that I say she must come 
back to dinner, I shall feel hurt if she does not,” 
said Mrs. Jewell. 

Eva went to the door and called, 

“ Oh, Doctor !” After the manner of Westerners, 
she put all her emphasis on the “ Oh ” and the first 
syllable of the word “Doctor,” letting her voice 
fall away as though her breath were gone. 

The people by the gate looked up, and Eva 
continued : 

“ By the authority of Mrs. Jewell, I charge 
Mr. Hills to escort Miss Ross to our dinner-table.” 

“ I shall be happy to obey the powers that be,” 
said Mr. Hills. — “ Miss Ross, will you accept my arm 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


239 


in the spirit in which it is given and allow me to 
tote that pill-bag?” 

The two moved gayly up the walk; Herbert 
Phelps came round the corner just in time to see 
them enter the house. He muttered something 
about “ that insufferable bore.” He meant Charlie 
Hills. Mr. Phelps kept up that unchristian train 
of thought all through the dinner-hour, for Mr. Hills 
devoted himself to that “ tiresome medical- woman.” 

Herbert Phelps was very busy that day. He 
had “ adopted ” this criminal’s daughter ; he felt 
there was much in the man’s life which needed his 
attention. Perhaps he must protect Ruth from him. 
To his honor be it said that his loyalty to Ruth did 
not falter during that miserable afternoon. Before 
night he began to appreciate Charlie Hills, who 
seemed to know just how to learn all there was to 
learn on the subject. They succeeded in keeping 
Ruth’s name from the papers. The quick-coming 
Western night had settled down before they turned 
their backs on those dreary details. 

“ I don’t wonder that Ruth seems crushed,” said 
Charlie as the two men walked homeward. 

“ Poor child !” said Herbert ; “ I don’t under- 
stand how she can be the girl she is, after the train- 


240 RUTH IRVING, M. D. 

ing that old brute gave her. They say blood tells, 
but—” 

“ Don’t quarrel with the law of heredity,” said 
Charlie. “ I fancy that Ruth’s mother was a noble 
woman, and that she is her mother’s daughter. 
The girl inherited her heroic desire to be useful in 
the world, and also her disgust for her father. It 
is a good thing that she does not go by his name. 
She sha’n’t want for a solid friend while I am 
above ground.” 

“ I would fight for her as I would for Eva,” 
said Herbert, eagerly. “ Do you know what has 
become of that young Ford, who hung around Ruth 
so much last winter ?” 

“ He has gone off to Laramie, and I am glad of 
it,” said Charlie. “He was of no account. I 
would break his head if he dared to look at my 
daughter.” 

That evening Herbert told Ruth some of the 
particulars of the crime with which her father had 
been charged : 

“ There seems to be no ground for defence even 
if any one wanted to defend him. Besides that, 
there are half a dozen other charges against him. 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


241 


He will probably go up for twenty years, which to 
a man of his age might as well be a life-sentence. 
I will watch his trial ; and if there is anything that 
you need to know, I will tell you. Otherwise, shall 
we drop the subject? But first promise me that 
you will not go off trying to bear any more troubles 
alone. Sometimes I think you don’t half trust me 
even now. I wonder what is the reason?” 

Herbert seemed anxious to help Kuth and hon- 
estly afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing, and 
Ruth remembered that night on the river-bottom. 

“ Yes, Herbert, I do trust you,” the girl cried, 
impulsively. “ I wish I could tell you how much 
I thank you for all you have done for me.” 

u I don’t want thanks ; I want your promise to 
come to me any and every time that I can help 
you. Will you not. promise me that, Ruthie?” 

“ Yes, I promise and Ruth, having professed 
faith in Herbert Phelps, began to have faith in 
him. 

Better than that, Ruth began to have faith in her- 
self; it seemed as if she really were climbing the 
flowery bluff of trust. But the grocer’s bill lay 
like lead upon her spirits. She did not include 

that in her promise to Herbert Phelps ; she could 
16 


242 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


not tell him about that. She was afraid he would 
go around and pay it if she did, and she could not 
have him paying her debts. 

Dr. Eoss called next day, and with her a gentle- 
man who was in search of a nurse for his invalid 
daughter. 

“ We will make it very easy for you, Miss Ir- 
ving,” he said. “ No night- work shall be asked of 
you until you are perfectly strong again. My pas- 
tor recommended you so very highly that I feel 
anxious to have you with my daughter. I think 
you must let me send my carriage for you this 
afternoon.” 

Euth promised to be ready, and then went back 
to her rooms to prepare for duty. Waiting her 
there was another edition of that grocer’s bill, and 
with it a note which made her cheeks burn with 
rage. How glad she was that work had come at 
last ! How glad she was that the impudent Dane 
need not know where she was until she had earned 
enough money to pay the bill ! Anew she resolved 
that she never would get into debt again. She 
almost shouted for joy when she received her wages 
for the first week’s work. It was enough to pay 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


243 


the bill, which she feared more and more as the days 
went on. She resolved to send the money by some 
one, and assured herself that it would be a long 
time before she entered that store again. She told 
Mrs. Jewell the whole story. 

“ Ruthie, I will do this for you on one condition,” 
said Mrs. J ewell : “ you must promise me that you 
never will do such a thing again. If you are in 
need, tell Dr. Ross or come to me, but you must 
never get trusted at a store— last of all, at one kept 
by a foreigner.” 

Ruth gave the required promise, and Mrs. Jewell 
went around to pay the bill that very day. 

“ I know not of it,” said the Swedish youth in 
attendance ; “ the doubtful accounts are kept at the 
other store.” 

“ You have a telephone ; ask for this bill,” said 
Mrs. Jewell. 

“ You had better go round to the other store and 
see it ;” and the manly clerk sampled a fresh box 
of raisins as he spoke. 

“The goods were bought at this store, and the 
bill should be here. I shall pay for them here. 
When will your employer be in?” 

Under the inspiration of that question the young 


244 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


Swede went to the telephone. After a great amount 
of helloing, the attention of the other house was 
directed toward Miss Irving’s bill. This was an 
enterprising firm ; it divided its forces and managed 
two stores at the same time that it might secure a 
greater range of custom. It also made one book- 
keeper do the work for both houses. 

The clerk was just polite enough to do his 
telephoning in his native tongue, but his remarks 
did not escape Mrs. Jewell’s ears. Long experience 
with kitchen-girls had taught her more than one 
language; she understood even that one-sided con- 
versation. She was glad that bill was paid. She 
was fond of Ruth Irving ; she felt very jealous of 
the dangers which beset the girl’s way. She kept 
herself young in heart that she might sympathize 
with the young ; she made her home attractive that 
she might win the confidence of all these young 
people and help pilot them around life’s breakers. 
In so doing she fought her country’s battles and 
gained many victories of peace. 

Ruth went back to her patient feeling younger 
and brighter than she had felt before in weeks. 
True, she was still in debt to Dr. Ross and she 
must repay the money which Herbert Phelps had 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


245 


spent on her sister’s funeral, but she had work and 
hope. She had an added touch of self-respect, for 
she was once more very useful in the world. She 
enjoyed the bright spring sunshine and the budding 
cottonwoods with brown birds twittering from their 
branches. The glossy coats of Omaha’s black- 
birds gleamed from every gatepost and lawn. 

The house in which Ruth’s duty lay was filled 
with all that could make it homelike save a mother’s 
love and care ; that had gone out years before, and 
now the only child was swiftly following. And 
oh, that child, with all her pain and the sunset 
flush on her cheeks, was her father’s idol. He 
prayed that he might be spared the loneliness her 
empty rooms would bring. All his wealth, his 
culture and the highest medical skill could only 
smooth her path a very little. Her room seemed 
more like a place to rest in than a field where 
death was fighting inch by inch for the vantage- 
ground. 

We all remember rooms where brave souls keep 
playing that health is coming back and go on 
brightly planning, knowing all the while that this 
world holds for them nothing but a few feet of 
broken green sod. 


246 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ I must seud you out more frequently/* said 
Beulah Andrus after Ruth had returned from Mrs. 
Jewell’s ; “ you bring a brighter smile back to me. 
Do you know that your face has a strong fascina- 
tion for me? There is such an earnest way about 
you — such a wistful light in your eyes. It almost 
makes my heart ache. Oh, Miss Irving, do not 
feel hurt at my plain speaking; I do not mean 
unkindness. It is because I love you so much that 
I like to watch you. But I think I love you a 
little more with that beautiful flush on your face. 
I wish you would talk to me about yourself.” 

“ What shall I say ?” 

“Tell me what makes you look so earnest?” 
said Beulah. 

Ruth was moving softly about the room, doing 
those little things which make the difference between 
good care and very poor care for a sick person. 
She answered slowly : 

“ I am climbing a bluff.” 

“Yes; I partly understand. The bluff is — ” 

“ Trouble,” said Ruth, without looking up. 

“Are you near the top?” Beulah asked; and 
Ruth answered, 

“ I think not.” 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


247 


“ I see,” said Beulah ; “ you have a Hill Diffi- 
culty as well as I.” 

There was a light tapping at the door, and Mr. 
Andrus entered the room ; so Ruth need not reply. 

Wealth was not all that made that home so 
beautiful, for it was a Christian home. The girl 
so surely slipping away from it all felt only bodily 
weakness. A bright, strong mind shone through 
the dark eyes. Her memory was very busy. Talk- 
ing was the only amusement left to her ; her greatest 
pleasure was in describing the bright places in her 
life. She said it was a comfort to have some one 
who was obliged to listen to her, so she told funny 
stories of college-life, recited sweet poems or made 
bits of history into stories. In all she opened the 
doors of a world which Ruth Irving never had 
entered. And the girl knew it ; she told her father 
that she was teaching Ruth by lectures, and Ruth 
had reason to be for ever grateful for those lectures. 

The spring days went by, and summer was on the 
plains. All the while Ruth was growing necessary 
to that family. The duties of a daughter of the 
house frequently fell to her lot. Her voice grew 
lower, her laugh softer and less frequent perhaps. 
There was a touch of tenderness in all she said and 


248 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


did which is never found in a very happy life. The 
old questions troubled her. She kept on telling her- 
self that some time, somewhere, she too would be 
satisfied — would feel that she knew just as John 
Anderson had known. Remember her past life. 
She had no fragments of truth learned on Sunday 
afternoons in childhood ; she never sat beside her 
father and listened to a children’s sermon too old for 
her years. And then — the loss of the motherless — 
she never had gone to sleep to the music of low 
hymn-singing. The triumph on John Anderson’s 
dying face was her first Christian evidence. She 
thought Beulah Andrus could not understand such 
doubts as hers. Sometimes she was tempted to ask 
Beulah’s pastor to tell her why he knew those 
things were so, but she never did. She told herself 
bitterly that she cared for no more experience in 
love-matters. She resolved to devote all her ener- 
gies to relieving human pain, so she decided on a 
medical education. She had some time for reading, 
and she was careful to read only such books as cul- 
tured people praised. She had learned to do the 
next thing. Single-handed and alone she would 
earn an expensive education, but she gave her whole 
mind to Snowbound when Mr. Andrus read it to his 


CLIMBING THE BLUFF. 


249 


daughter. She re-read it all. Some of the lines 
sang themselves over and over in her mind : 

“ Where’er her troubled pathway be, 

The Lord’s sweet pity with her go ! 

The outward, wayward life we see ; 

The hidden springs we may not know, 

Nor is it given us to discern 
What threads the fatal sisters spun, 

Through what ancestral years has run 
The sorrow with that woman born ; 

What forged her cruel chain of moods ; 

What set her feet in solitudes, 

And held the love within her mute ; 

What mingled madness in the blood, 

A lifelong discord and annoy, 

Waters of tears and oil of joy, 

And hid within the folded bud 
Perversity of flower and fruit. 

It is not ours to separate 

The tangled skein of will and fate, 

To show what metes and bounds should stand 
Upon the soul’s debatable land, 

And between choice and circumstance 
Divide the circle of events ; 

But He who knows our frame is just, 

Merciful and compassionate 
And full of sweet assurances, 

And hope of all the language is 
That he remembereth we are dust.” 


250 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


And the words sounded in her mind even in sleep. 
She read the Bible to Beulah, but it did not help 
her, for she had been taught that the Book was a 
fraud. How should she learn that it is not ? 

Ruth saw little of Dr. Ross, and less of the peo- 
ple at the boarding-house. She knew she could rely 
on those people. She thought how Herbert Phelps’s 
advice would help her, and how she would study 
with Dr. Ross. As yet she had no time even to 
tell them her plans ; so she planned all the more. 
She would prove that she was worthy of her friend- 
ship. Some day they would be proud of her. How 
easy it is for an unselfish soul to work for “ their 
sake ” I 


CHAPTER XXI. 

AN OLD BOOK. 

There is but one Book.” — Sir Walter Scott. 

T ITTLE by little Beulah Andrus learned of 
Ruth Irving’s struggles in life ; little by little 
she began to understand the mind-hunger and how 
the brave girl’s life was hedged in. 

An unsatisfied ambition in Beulah’s own life 
made her very thoughtful for her young nurse. 
Lying there and looking up at the sky-tinted ceil- 
ing, she made many plans, but her plans were all 
of how her work might be done by other strength 
than her own. During the long nights when her 
pain was too great for sleep the sick girl would ask 
that her bed might be rolled near to the great win- 
dow, so that the moon might be company for her. 
Then she would send her father away and bid Ruth 
to lie quiet on her couch. Through the long hours 
Beulah Andrus looked into the faces of the near- 


251 


252 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


seeming Western stars and planned to give Ruth 
Irving the future she coveted for herself. 

Beulah hid all the planning and the pain it gave 
her ; she shut her teeth hard against the sobs that 
would come, and said, 

“ ‘All is of God that is and is to be, 

And God is good.’ ” 

It might have been a little victory, but in the book 
that is kept up yonder it will look as large as any 
one exploit of the general who studied the stars 
over St. Helena. 

Beulah Andrus had a nervous, sensitive tempera- 
ment ; the sensitiveness was brightened by disease. 
There are days when the clear air of Nebraska is 
highly charged with electricity. Every breath was 
torture to the sick girl. There came a day in Au- 
gust when the sun shone with a brilliancy blind- 
ing to human eyes ; even the wind had lost its 
freshness and seemed like the hot breath of some 
monster. Every living thing wilted. Ruth spent 
the day in trying to bring comfort and coolness to 
her patient. In the afternoon she sat by the bed. 
One of Ruth’s firm, strong hands clasped the two 
thin ones; the other gently. waved the fan. She 


AN OLD BOOK. 


253 


was trying by strength of nerves and will to bring 
sleep and calmness where there seemed little pros- 
pect of either. There was a low mutter of thunder, 
then a loud crash, seemingly just over their heads. 
The slight form on the bed writhed in agony. 
Ruth brought out a hypodermic syringe and a 
little white powder. 

“ Don’t give me that,” wailed poor Beulah ; “ it’s 
against my principles to take morphia.” 

“ I know it,” Ruth replied. “ I hate the stuff 
as much as you could wish me to, but it is against 
my principles and your physician’s orders to let you 
wear yourself out with needless suffering. I am 
going to send you off to Shut-eye Town. When 
you return, this world will be much improved.” 

The nurse pushed back the dainty sleeve and 
administered the medicine. Soon the convulsive 
movements ceased, and Beulah was asleep. 

Ruth straightened up and took a deep breath. 
Oh how tired she was ! She went to the window 
and looked out. Rain and hailstones were pouring 
down in fierce slanting sheets. The thunder growled 
and rumbled just over her head, the cottonwoods 
bent before the fearful blast. The very fierceness 
of the storm rested her. She stood watching until 


254 


RUTII IRVING, M. I). 


the lightning stopped its wild play and the thunder 
rumbled away in the distance. The storm settled 
into a steady down-pouring rain ; then Ruth looked 
about her. The sleeper was breathing softly. “ She 
will sleep some time yet,” Ruth thought as she softly 
left the room. She went down to the great library. 
She wanted more knowledge of the God who “ doth 
scare the world with tempests.” 

There was much Christian literature before Ruth. 
She looked at the big volumes and wondered which 
to choose. She wished that theology had been cut 
finer and placed on lower shelves, where the hur- 
ried might reach it. Lying just before her was a 
little book — so little that it might be slipped into 
the smallest boy’s pocket. She took up the book, 
wondering what subject could be set forth in so 
small a volume. It was Chistian Evidences , 
that little-big book — so little that the publishers 
charge only ten cents for it, so big that the author 
has made it hold the biggest subject in all the 
world. There was a leaf turned down, and, follow- 
ing the instinct which makes us read a marked pas- 
sage, Ruth read Coleridge’s words: “I know the 
Bible is inspired, because it finds me at a greater 
depth of my being than any other book.” 


AN OLD BOOK. 


255 


Ruth was thoughtful. If the Bible had not 
thus found her, it was because she had not given 
it a chance; she had been below everything else. 
She carried the little book back to her sleeping 
patient ; she began reading eagerly. Even the pref- 
ace helped her, and some of it surely meant her : 

“ But there are struggling souls who long for 
light. They wonder if the claims of the Bible are 
true. They ask the question honestly. In this lit- 
tle volume are a few of the reasons which satisfy the 
Christian thinker concerning the claims of the Bible. 
They are told plainly and simply and briefly, and 
the author prays that the telling may help some 
souls into light. 

“J. H. Vincent.” 

That is the way the preface ends. This was 
w T hat Ruth had looked for. That good man had 
prayed for the unknown ones who should read his 
little book, and she would read it. She began to 
read. The author said, 

“ Before me lies a book. It is a book of books, 
a library in itself, collected through sixteen hun- 
dred years. It is an old book, its earliest volumes 
written before the earliest known books of antiquity. 


256 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Its friends — for this book has both friends and foes 
— call it the Book of books.” 

So Buth read on, sometimes pausing thoughtfully 
before a passage of special interest to her : 

“ The firm faith and rich rhetoric of its friends 
are not enough to satisfy all men that this accepted 
and lauded book is really divine. Proofs are 
needed. The ignorant heed them, the prejudiced, 
the skeptical, the tempted — the first for illumination, 
the second for correction, the third for conviction and 
the fourth for confirmation. Error is in the world. 
Sin strengthens error.” 

Buth read on eagerly, but paused before the 
words, 

“Thus thousands and tens of thousands in this 
world accept the Bible because of the testimony of 
mother, father, friend, minister or church. They 
have no doubt. The Bible is their home and the 
pulpit is to them the word of God. They need no 
logic, no proof, no book on evidence, to give them a 
start toward the heaven which the Bible points out. 
And this process is not to be despised. There are 
evidences in abundance that the Bible is God’s 
word ; but if a soul can find the consolation and 
strength of that word without treading the path of 


AN OLD BOOK. 


257 


doubt and of demonstration, he is to be congratulated. 
Faith and heart go hand in hand. One has said, 
‘ Yes, I do believe in the Bible — in part, at least — 
because my mother did. And it is dearer because 
it was her Bible, and my God is more reverenced 
because he was my mother’s God, and Christ is 
loved because he was my mother’s Saviour, and 
heaven is more precious because the heaven of the 
Bible is my mother’s heaven.”’ 

Ruth Irving wondered if her mother believed in 
that God and went to his heaven. Then she read 
on. There was so much that interested her : 

“ ‘A more relentless criticism by far has been ap- 
plied to the New Testament than was applied by 
Wolff to the Iliad or by Niebuhr to the history of 
Rome.’ 

“ Barnes. 

“ How diligent the Jews were in the preservation 
of their sacred books has often been noticed. Every 
word, every letter, was sacred. Copyists preserved 
them with the utmost reverence, counting every let- 
ter of every book. No word or letter — not even a 
yohd — was allowed to be written from memory. 
Besides, the copying of these records was regarded 
as a sacred engagement. The copyist was required, 
U 


258 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


before beginning his work, to bathe his whole body 
in water. He was required to array himself in full 
Jewish costume. He was not permitted to write 
the name of God with a pen which had been used 
before ; and should a king address him while writ- 
ing that name, he must take no notice of him. 
Painful and superstitious as most of these regula- 
tions were, they must have been of immense value 
in securing accuracy in the text. The scribe must 
have felt an almost awful responsibility in transcrib- 
ing words that had such solemn sanction.” 

Ruth read on and on : 

“ The Bible touches the world, and we find that 
all its allusions are sustained by facts. The more 
we know of the customs of ancient nations, the 
more we learn of the geography of the countries 
referred to, the more relics and ruins we exhume, 
the more of the old languages of Assyria and 
Babylonia and Egypt we interpret, — the more do 
we find that the incidental allusions of the Bible 
to these things are exactly true. Tyre, Babylon, 
Nineveh, Egypt, Palestine, Jerusalem, Moab, the 
Jews, — all these, and many besides, stand as pres- 
ent, permanent, tangible, visible monuments to the 
truth of the Bible. 




AN , OLD BOOK. 


259 


“ The force of this argument is increased by the 
reflection that we are living in an age of exhaustive 
research, discovery, original thought and merciless 
criticism. Old ruins are coming into the sunlight, 
old customs are being investigated. Philological 
studies receive marked attention. There was never 
before such an age of probing and challenging and test- 
ing. Ecclesiastical terrorism has almost disappear- 
ed. Antagonism to Christianity is free, open and un- 
trammeled. The enemies have been at work among 
the rocks, the ruins, the protoplasms and the stars, 
but all the discovered facts harmonize with the 
Book. All the results of scientific research for the 
last twenty-five years, where they at all bear upon 
the Bible, corroborate its statements, assist in its 
exegesis and add new charm to its teaching. The 
Bible, speaking thus accurately about the things we 
already know and about things we are from day to 
day finding out, may be depended upon when it 
speaks of the eternal and divine. 

“ Tested as no other book ever has been tested, 
opposed as no other book ever has been opposed, 
scrutinized by friends and by foes, subjected to the 
most exhaustive criticism of this most critical age, 
tested by natural science, by philosophy, by religious 


260 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


and historical critics the most learned and acute, — 
the Bible still stands on a firm and immovable 
foundation, believed in by scholars, by hosts of 
wise scientists, sought and trusted by the masses 
of plain people who are noted for common sense 
and practical wisdom.” 

Ruth was getting sound information on the ques- 
tions which had troubled her. She closely followed 
each step : 

“How is it with the Bible in its testimony on 
matters just beyond our ken ? It has been given to 
tell us something we did not know and could not 
find out. As a revelation of the hitherto un- 
known or as an authoritative revelation of the 
things thought of and desired by the wisest, but 
hesitatingly announced, does the Bible meet our 
highest thought and contain a system in harmony 
with its lofty claims? ... It is a record of mira- 
cles, of God-like deeds which no man could perform, 
and which, being performed through man, prove 
his divine call and appointment as a teacher of 
truth. 

“ It is a record of the most marvelous of all 
miracles, Jesus Christ. The very conception 
of the character of Jesus is a miracle. He is the 


AN OLD BOOK. 


261 


problem of the age. Never has he been studied as 
at the present time, and by men of the profoundest 
learning. He is the marvel of all literature, the 
one central figure of the book, for whom and by 
whom the book exists and without whom it had 
never been. Rousseau himself said, < The concep- 
tion of Christ by the authors of the Gospels would 
have been a greater miracle than any the Gospels 
ascribe to Christ.’ ” 

The rain had cooled the air, and still the patient 
slept. Her thin white face was turned toward the 
light. 

Ruth read on : 

“ The miracles of the Bible were brought to the 
test of the senses in a public manner. They were 
numerous and of great variety. The success in each 
case was instantaneous and complete. They under- 
went a rigid examination at the time, were published 
and appealed to after, and in the very places where, 
they occurred. None of the early Christians were 
induced to confess themselves deceived. There is 
nothing in the miracles but what is entirely worthy 
of the majesty, holiness, justice and goodness 
of God, by whose power they professed to be 
wrought.” 


262 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Ruth was nearly through when she read : 

“ Remember that Christianity has been a leader in 
culture. Dr. Howard Crosby says, 

“ ‘ Who founded Prague, and Heidelberg, and 
Leipsic, and Tubingen, and Jena, and Halle, and 
Berlin, and Bonn ? Who founded Salamanca, and 
Valladolid, and Oxford, and Cambridge, and Aber- 
deen ? They were Bible-men. When the rest of 
mankind were caring for the mere necessities of the 
physical life, Bible-men were holding the torch of 
science, and these men were the predecessors of the 
Bacons and Newtons. Who founded the American 
colleges? With very few exceptions, they were 
Bible-men. Newton was only one of hundreds 
who, given to science, loved his Bible. From his 
day the succession has been complete. And the 
science that in our day boasts such Bible-men as its 
Faraday, its Forbes, its Carpenter, its Hitchcock, 
its Dana and its Torrey cannot be considered as oc- 
cupying a position hostile to the Bible/ ” 

Ruth shut the little book, keeping her fingers 
between the leaves just at the close of that passage. 
She leaned back in her chair and looked out of the 
window. The softly-falling raindrops gave a mourn- 
ful sound ; great piles of gray gloom shut out the 


AN OLD BOOK. 


263 


sky. She thought of the Christian evidences in the 
lives around her, and then she went on reading that 
fifty-fourth page : 

“ Remember the condition under which the Bible 
promises clear apprehensions of its truth.” 

Ruth picked up Beulah’s Bible and looked up the 
reference John vii. 17 : “If any man will do his 
will, he shall know of the doctrine, whether it be 
of God, or whether I speak of myself.” That was 
certainly very reasonable. 

Gleams of light shot through the falling rain- 
drops ; Ruth raised her eyes to behold a shower of 
diamonds. A bow of promise was “set in the 
clouds.” She caught its meaning for her, and the 
glory of the sunset shone on her face as her sleeping 
patient moved restlessly and then opened her eyes 
and cried, 

“ Oh, it’s brighter now !” 

“ Yes, dear ; it’s all bright now,” said Ruth as she 
bent over the sick girl ; but the invalid did not 
know that the words held a double meaning. 

It ma!y be that afternoon’s reading would not 
have settled your doubts; such might not have been 
your way, as it might not have been mine, but it 
was Ruth Irving’s way. Dr. Vincent’s prayer was 


264 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


answered, for that grand big-little book helped 
Ruth’s soul into light — even the light reflected by 
the Sun of righteousness — and there was another 
victory for the Prince of peace. 


CHAPTEE XXII. 

VACATION. 

“Across the broad brown peaceful hills, 

With blossoms to our broncho’s knees, 

With singing-birds, by broken rills, 

We rode through seas of drowsy bees.” 

“/^|OME, Dr. Eoss ! Please say you will go,” 

^ coaxed Jessie Fleming. 

“ But I don’t know what Euth will say/’ replied 
the Doctor. 

“ Euth will go if you will/’ Jessie declared, lean- 
ing back in her chair as though there were no more 
to be said on that part of the subject. 

The Doctor hesitated : 

“I know it would be very pleasant, but I am 
afraid I can’t spare the time.” 

Jessie sat straight up : 

“ Dr. Eoss, have you taken one single minute’s 
vacation since you became an M. D. ?” 

“ Not what you call a vacation, but I have not 
worked all the time, by any means.” 


265 


266 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“All work and no play makes even doctors dull 
people,” laughed Jessie.— “ Eva Phelps, do you put 
away that book and come here and help me convert 
this medical- woman.” 

Eva laughed as she crossed the room and seated 
herself between the Doctor and J essie : 

“ I will add the force of example to your argu- 
ments ; that is the best I can do.” 

“ Yes, that is all that can be desired,” said Jessie. 
“ I wish Ruth were here.” 

There was a quick step outside, a quick ring of 
the bell, and the door opened to admit Ruth 
Irving. 

“Was Fate ever kinder?” cried Eva as the 
three young women crowded around the new-comer 
to welcome her. 

“ Ruthie, you are looking quite worn out,” said 
the Doctor after the first greetings were over. 

“ I am very tired,” Ruth replied. “ My patient 
requires such constant care ; she suffers severely all 
the time.” 

“ Can’t you rest a while ?” asked the Doctor. 

“ Mr. Andrus advised me to do so,” said Ruth. 
“His daughter may live some months yet. She 
wishes me with her at the last ; they think that I 



Planning for Vacation 


Page 266, 



♦ 

























VACATION . 


267 


should rest a while now, and then try to endure to 
the end.” 

“ We have your rest all planned,” cried Jessie. 
— “ Come, Doctor ! Say you will go.” 

“ I had given no thought to vacation, for you 
know my spare thoughts are all with the horse I am 
going to buy very soon,” said the Doctor ; “ but 
tell Ruth about your plan, and see what she says.” 

“ We will all help you think of your horse; so 
there will be no time lost on that,” replied Jessie, 
with a laugh. — “Ruth, you have heard me speak 
of my uncle Jay, have you not? He lives on a 
ranch in the western part of this State. Listen to 
this letter ; it came this morning ;” and Jessie be- 
gan to read from the letter she carried in her hand : 

“ 1 “ O Solitude, where are the charms 

That sages have seen in thy face ?” 

“ ‘ Solitude has no charms now, Jessie. Don’t 
tell me that I know nothing of solitude : this ranch 
affords solitude of the deepest dye. I never shall 
advocate a “ business education ” for another woman ; 
if you never had had that dreadful business edu- 
cation, I might have my little Sand-bur with me 
to-night. 


268 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


a ‘ Remember, my child, it is almost time for the 
visit you promised me. And remember, also, that 
a Western man’s latchstring never is pulled in. 
Bring some of your friends home with you — bring 
them all — and make things lively on this beastly 
ranch. I deserve some reward for the patieuce with 
which I have endured your absence; so, my little 
Sand-bur, invite that whole boarding-house to come 
home with you. You know, of course, that I mean 
the boarders, not the structure. Bring Dr. Ross and 
that little nurse too. Mrs. Jewell can chaperon the 
crowd. By the way, there is one person rightly 
named : she is a jewel. 

“ ‘ I am going to put camp-bedsteads in your 
room for the ladies, and it will do those city-fellows 
good to roll themselves up in blankets and sleep on 
the floor. We will show them how to ride a bron- 
cho and teach them how to talk like a cowboy. 
The whole party will be able to speak understand- 
ingly of ranch-life for evermore. 

“ ‘ Now, my darling, make out a strong case and 
let me know how many are coming, and don’t be 
long getting ready.’ 

“ So much for that part of the epistle,” said Jessie 
as she folded the letter and put it in her pocket. 


VACATION. 


269 


“ Uncle Jay is my father’s twin-brother; he is the 
only relative I have in all the world. He is a 
bachelor, and owns the cattle on many a fertile hill ; 
his head-cowboy’s wife keeps house for him. Uncle 
never has any low cowboyism about; the ‘ family 
disturbance’ is never used except as a medicine, 
and that very rarely.” 

“ I don’t understand about the ‘ family disturb- 
ance,”’ said Dr. Ross. 

Jessie laughed gayly : 

“You know cowboy idioms are made up of 
American originality and the Spanish language. 

‘ Family disturbance’ is the cowboy’s name for 
whisky. Sometimes it is known as the 1 stuff that’s 
manufactured,’ but Uncle Jay says ‘ family disturb- 
ance ’ is the best name he knows for it. That is 
what uncle means when he says we will teach you 
to talk like a cowboy. A man who is new to 
ranch-life is designated as a * tenderfoot,’ a re- 
volver is a ‘ 45,’ and so on. There are all kinds 
of cowboys, from the worst of Texans to broken- 
down city ministers trying to regain their health. 
As a class they are daring, big-hearted fellows who 
have the greatest respect for womanhood. I have 
lived on a ranch more than half my life, and I am 


270 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


prepared to defend the cowboy. I have invited all 
the people at the house ; part of them can go for a 
few days, but I want you three to go with me and 
stay as long as I do. The Doctor’s title gives her 
lots of dignity, so she can chaperon the party. Oh, 
we’ll have a good time. You people talk it over, 
and do decide to go.” 

Dr. Ross and Ruth had a long talk about the 
trip. Country-life was new to both, and ranch-life 
held all the charms of novelty. They said they 
could, and would, go home with Jessie Fleming. 

Ruth went back to her work. Things seemed the 
same with her as before that afternoon’s reading the 
week previous, yet all was very different. The fe- 
verish restlessness of her thinking-moods was gone. 
She was no longer a bit of isolated humanity, but 
a part of a grand plan, and the God of the universe 
had said, “ I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.” 
Yes, the heavenly Father was hers, and she almost 
loved that other father who had been a curse to her 
all her life. Now she prayed that he might not re- 
ceive the wages of his sins. 

Jessie Fleming went about all day, planning. 
She said to herself : 


VACATION. 


271 


“ Don’t I see through Uncle Jay’s invitation? 
That man is tired of living alone ; he wants a help- 
meet. He has taken a roundabout way to get one, 
but I will help all I can. Eva is engaged ; I sup- 
pose the Doctor is wedded to her profession. There 
is that little nurse ; she would be a lovely wife for 
Uncle Jay. — Jessie, my dear, I am afraid you will 
prove to be a matchmaker. You must be careful not 
to let the girls know that the ranch is a matrimonial 
market , they would not stir one step. — I wonder 
what has changed Ruth Irving so much? She 
used to be so full of life and nonsense, but now her 
face has all the calmness of a sister of mercy. She 
is wonderfully sweeter than she used to be. Yes, 
she is very lovable ; she is just the wife for Uncle 
Jay.” 

Jessie talked about the ranch all the time, and 
the entire party were very enthusiastic on the subject 
when Dr. Ross called that evening. 

“ When shall we go ?” asked the Doctor. 

“ Next week,” Jessie answered. 

“ Don’t you think the child quite insists on my 
going ?” said Mrs. Jewell as she entered the room. 

“ Of course she does !” cried the Doctor. 


272 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


“ But I had not thought of giving myself a va- 
cation this summer,” replied Mrs. Jewell as she 
slowly shook her head. 

“ I thought for you,” said Jessie. — “ Dr. Ross, I 
have taken the sense of the meeting, and, sad as it 
may seem, only Mrs. Jewell and Eva, Mr. Phelps 
and Charlie Hills, are available.” 

“Available for what ?” asked the last-named 
gentleman as he put his head in at the doorway. 

“ Come in,” said Jessie. “ ‘ Speak of angels, 
and — • ” 

“ ‘ You hear the rattle of his chain/ ” Charlie 
finished as he took a seat on the piano-stool and 
whirled halfway round and back, facing the com- 
pany. 

“ This is a preliminary meeting,” cried Jessie, 
“ and how can we have a preliminary with you 
gyrating in that manner ? It is bad form. I said 
you were one of the available candidates for the 
ranch-party.” 

“Will the cowboys stand us up in a row and 
shoot off our hats ?” asked Charlie, gravely. “ I be 
hanged if I know how to behave on a rancho. Or 
is it a broncho that kicks ? 

“You will certainly be hanged if you steal 


VACATION. 


273 


ponies. There are some lovely strong cottonwoods 
on Uncle Jay’s ranch/’ said Jessie, wickedly. 

“Any rattlesnakes ?” asked Charlie. 

“ Yes ; I think so, at least. I was bitten by one 
when I was a child.” 

“Why, Jessie, is it safe to live there?” asked 
Mrs. Jewell. 

“ Certainly it is safe to live there, and I shall de- 
fend our cowboys against all aspersions. I never 
received truer politeness from any men in my life 
than from my uncle’s cowboys. Most of them are 
true gentlemen at heart, in spite of their rough 
life.” 

“ Don’t give them too much credit for that,” said 
Charlie. “ Like Emerson, you are ‘ always en- 
vironed by yourself,’ and the man who would treat 
you other than politely would be foolhardy indeed. 
But what about the rattlesnakes?” 

“You will need to obey the ranchman’s com- 
mandments,” was the reply. 

“ What are they ?” 

“One is, 'Thou shalt carry matches in thy 
pocket.’ ” 

“And matches are made in heaven,” said Charlie, 

solemnly. 

18 


274 


RUTII IRVING , M. D. 


“ Whose ?” asked Herbert Phelps as he entered 
the doorway just in time to catch the last sentence. 

“ Miss Jessie’s,” said Charlie. 

“ I am very glad to know it,” she said, not in the 
least annoyed by Charlie’s attempt at teasing. 

“Come, Mrs. Jewell ! Will you not promise?” 
Jessie coaxed, after much more talking on the 
subject. 

“Most of the boarders will be gone by that 
time,” said Mrs. Jewell, thoughtfully. “ Mr. Fre- 
mont will stay in town all summer, but he can 
take his meals down town and sleep in the house.” 

“ Of course he can !” chorused the company. 

“ I ought to be canning fruit,” was the last ex- 
cuse offered. 

The woman who deliberates is lost, and soon Jes- 
sie said gleefully, 

“ I will write Uncle Jay that we four girls will 
be with him one week from to-morrow, and that 
three other people will join us later.” 

A brakeman turned a seat, so that the four young 
women might sit together ; they settled down to en- 
joy a swift ride over the rolling prairies of Ne- 
braska. The Union Pacific express-train climbed 


VACATION. 


275 


the Summit, slid down the hill and swept across the 
divides and over the rivers. 

Jessie Fleming sprang down the car steps, and 
immediately her face was hidden in the shaggy 
beard which adorned Uncle Jay’s face. 

“ Oh, Sand-bur, how you stick ! Same old Sand- 
bur ! I was afraid some city-fellow would get my 
little Sand-bur.” 

u Instead, the Sand-bur has gotten you,” laughed 
the happy girl as she clung to her uncle’s left arm 
while she went through with the ceremony of in- 
troducing her friends to her guardian-uncle. 

Dr. Ross listened to Mr. Jay’s charming flow of 
Western adjectives and cowboy idioms, but she was 
forced to admit to herself that there were ranchman 
characteristics of which she had heard and read 
which were not illustrated by Jay Fleming. 

Near the platform waited a large farm-wagon to 
which were attached four strong mules. The bag- 
gage was stowed in the bottom of the wagon-box, 
and the girls climbed to the high spring-seats. 
Jessie chose the front one and gathered the reins 
in her strongly-gloved hands. 

To those girls whose horizon had long been sick- 
room and office-walls that twenty-five-mile ride was 


276 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


a revelation. The world was carpeted by the won- 
derful buffalo-grass, yet on every hand were tall 
clumps of giant wild grasses, while the wild sun- 
flowers glowed like gold in the sunshine. The far- 
away sky seemed to bend so near ! The tireless 
prairie- wind had the exciting, strengthening effect of 
rich wine. Their hearts drank in the glory around 
them. Girlish tones and girlish laughter answered 
the meadowlark’s whistle and the brown bird’s pip- 
ing on the divides. Doctor and teacher, nurse and 
stenographer, were in a fair way to grow brown as 
a squaw, and to forget that they had ever had any 


nerves. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

ON THE RANCH. 

“ ’Tis a land so far that you wonder whether 

E’en God would know it should you fall down dead. 

* ******* 

O land of the beautiful sun and weather, 

With green under foot and gold over head, 

Where the sun takes flame, and you wonder whether 
’Tis an isle of fire in his foamy bed !” 

TN that wide land Jay Fleming had made a home 
^ for himself and for little Jessie when Nemesis, 
in the guise of Consumption, threatened him. One 
by one those Flemings had died — father, mother, 
brother and sister; only the twin-brothers were 
left of all their race. 

The time came when Jesse clasped his failing 
arms around his little daughter and then gave her 
to her uncle Jay. The dying father asked that 
these two — the last of the Flemings — should not be 
separated until little Jessie should have grown to 
womanhood. Having that wee girl on his hands, 

277 


278 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Jay Fleming found it necessary to make a comfort- 
able home and to have much of civilization in it. 
A kind, motherly housekeeper looked after the little 
girl’s bodily wants, while the uncle educated her 
after his own heart. He guarded her as his one 
rare pearl. Every cowboy on the ranch would have 
shed his last drop of blood in her defence. It was 
a wild, happy life, but Mr. Fleming conceived the 
idea of giving Jessie a business education. In a 
busy city she learned the stenographer’s cunning; 
she also learned of the delights of the society of 
girls of her own age and of those of boys a little 
older. When her studies were over, she would not 
be coaxed back to the ranch ; she insisted upon try- 
ing her education. Was it practical? Her uncle, 
in dismay, owned that it was. He satisfied his 
bachelor-heart with what of her society she chose 
to give him. He was much disgusted with the suc- 
cess of his plan, as many another man has been be- 
fore him. 

Perhaps this ranch differs from all other ranches ; 
it certainly shows that its owner did not leave the 
comforts of civilization behind him when he betook 
himself to raising cattle. Lumber is costly on the 
prairies; the house alone showed no small degree 


ON THE RANCH. 


279 


of wealth. The exterior was plain even to ugliness. 
It had a squatty appearance ; it was a low oblong 
building. There the wind is always tugging at 
every projecting corner ; the keensighted ranchman 
outwitted the wind by leaving only four very plain 
corners for the wind to tug at. 

Once inside the house, its low, squatty appearance 
was forgotten. A wide hall extended the width of 
the building and was used as the family sitting- 
room. To the left were the dining-room and the 
kitchen, and there also was the housekeeper’s room. 
To the right were the private apartments of uncle 
and niece. 

Jessie had told her friends that there was not an 
inch of carpeting at the ranch. They were prepared 
for bare floors ; to their delight, they found the wide 
hall covered with light matting, while rugs in- 
numerable were scattered about. Buffalo, bear, 
antelope and coyote had given their garments for 
that purpose. There were many easy-chairs, many 
books — treasures in memory of foreign travel. 
Jessie said a baby was the only thing that was 
not, and never had been, in that hall. 

The owner of it all regarded his visitors as more 
than angels. Four genuine American girls on his 


280 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


ranch ! The like was not to be hoped for again in 
the history of one man’s lifetime. 

A little way from the house a stream wound 
itself among the hillocks, nearly losing itself in 
the sandy soil; farther on it reached the river 
which formed the water-front of the ranch. The 
prairie-fires had for ages recoiled upon themselves as 
they reached the edge of the bluff, and left the low- 
lying banks unscorched. Willows shook their pale 
plumes and several cottonwoods stretched their long 
branches over the bed of the stream; wild-plum 
trees fringed the banks. There was a wonderful 
growth of grasses in which one might lose the way, 
but there was safe covert for great broods of prairie- 
chickens and the quails that piped all day, while the 
meadowlark’s clear whistle thrilled the air. Violets 
blossom there, and sweet wild roses; in June the 
bluffs are blue with lupine-blossoms. Farther on the 
bluffs rise higher above the sandy bed of the stream 
and are honeycombed with wolf-holes. The prairie- 
wolves howl dismally in the night-time while they 
skulk in the grass-shadows. 

Nature had made the spot wild and lovely ; but 
when it was decided that the girls were to visit the 
ranch, Art took this place in hand. Where the 


ON THE RANCH. 


281 


shade was thickest the rank grass was cut and raked 
away. Trees were trimmed, a swing was put up, 
seats were constructed and strong hooks were fas- 
tened into the tree-trunks, from which hammocks 
were to be suspended. Then Gospel Ben the cow- 
boy, more thoughtful than the others, had carefully 
gathered the sand-burs on both sides of the path 
leading to the ranch-house. 

“ What are you doin’ that for ?” asked a brother- 
cowboy as he folded his arms and leaned against a 
cottonwood. 

“ So they won’t get burs in their white dresses,” 
said Gospel Ben as he straightened up and kicked 
the burs together. 

u How do you know they will wear white 
dresses?” continued the skeptic. 

“ Because they do;” and Gospel Ben gathered 
his arms full of sand-burs and carried them safe 
beyond the reach of white dresses. 

The half dozen cowboys looking on knew that 
white dresses had been prominent in the history of 
Gospel Ben, the pride of the ranch. 

It was then that the cowboys held their prelimi- 
nary meeting. A committee was appointed and sent 
to the nearest commercial centre to look after their 


282 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


interests ; so it was that the first detachment of cow- 
boys who left their quarters near the corral to pay 
their respects to the ladies of the ranch presented a 
very fine appearance. Embroidered flannel shirts 
— ordered from Omaha for the occasion — gay silk 
neckties and new sombreros helped to make a toilet 
which satisfied the cowboy’s heart. The best ponies 
the ranch afforded did credit to their horsemanship. 

Never did a queen enjoy more sincere homage 
than those four young women received from those 
gayly-gotten-up cowboys. The herd grazing in the 
distance were guarded with a double guard, so that 
by no chance might they stampede in the direction 
of the willow-shaded stream where, true to Gospel 
Ben’s prediction, white dresses brushed the wild 
grasses. 

“ Girls,” said Eva as she swung in a hammock 
and watched the first sunset, “ I promised to write 
a full description of this place for Herbert ; I can’t 
do it. — Doctor, will you not help me?” 

“ Tell him your vocabulary has given out,” re- 
plied the Doctor. “ This place is like unto nothing 
else, and I can’t describe it ; it is a 1 picture which 
I shall ever go alone to view,’ for all of being able 
to help any one else to see it.” 


ON THE RANCH. 


283 


The next morning Mr. Fleming rode up to the 
door ; he was mounted on an ugly spotted broncho. 
He led Jessie’s favorite horse, a thick-built, coal- 
black Oregon pony. Her little body seemed ready 
to resist all the powers that be. Her shaggy mane 
fluttered in the breeze, her bangs hung over her 
eyes, while her wicked little ears were held close 
against her head. To the girls so new to ranch- 
life she seemed a very undesirable animal. 

“ That beast is a caution,” said the ranchman as 
he waited for Jessie to come out ; “ she is so ugly 
that not a man on the range cares to ride her. She 
will buck, jump sideways or stiff-legged. She is no 
good generally ; but when Jess is about, she is al- 
most perfect.” 

“ How many horses have you ?” questioned Dr. 
Foss. 

“We use only about fifty on the range,” Mr. 
Fleming replied, “ but we will soon send out about 
a dozen different outfits to represent us at the round- 
ups. Each cowboy must have at least seven horses, 
for the hard riding and the sand soon make a pony’s 
back sore. Each outfit must have a mess- wagon 
and a cook to travel with it.” 

“You must have a hundred and fifty horses,” 


284 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


cried Dr. Ross. “ I thought that buying one was 
an important affair.” 

“ It is,” said the smiling ranchman. 

At that moment Jessie appeared with her hands 
full of sugar, which the pony ate with great relish. 

“ Jessie is like wild roses — sweet, but briery,” 
said the uncle. 

“ Jet is not eating me,” laughed Jessie as she 
sprang into the saddle. 

“ I fancy she would like to eat you,” replied the 
uncle as he vaulted into his saddle. 

The ranchman waved his sombrero by way of a 
farewell. The riders took a wide circling course in 
full view of the ranch-house, then rode gayly back 
to the door. The girls, watching them, wished they 
too might learn to ride like a Western girl. They 
took many riding-lessons under the careful tuition 
of their host. Later they made ready to go down 
to the park — or, as Jessie styled it, “ the cowboys’ 
retreat.” 

“Jessie, why did you not tell us more of this 
paradise?” asked Eva. 

“ Because I wanted you to come and see it for 
yourselves, and I did not wish you to be disap- 
pointed in it ;” and Jessie gathered up her paper 


ON THE RANCH 


285 


flowers, stopping to crumple the petals of a water- 
lily over the head of her hat-pin. 

“ I can’t understand why you leave it,” said 

Ruth. 

“ Well, you see, I have a business education,” 
Jessie replied, thoughtfully. 

u ‘ Business education,’ indeed !” cried the Doctor. 
“ You are the most devoted to fancy-work of any 
woman here.” 

“ I can’t imagine what you mean to do with that 
stuif,” Ruth added, pointing to the paper flowers. 
“ Surely you can’t mean to decorate this room with 
them ? How do you manage that paper in such air 
as this ?” 

Jessie laughed gayly, but made no answer. She 
surprised the girls by slipping a silver-mounted re- 
volver in her dress-front, leaving the handle to ap- 
pear as an ornament; then she quickly refilled a 
pocket match -safe. 

“ What is that for ?” asked the Doctor. 

“ From force of habit and Jessie laughed as 
she wickedly pulled the ears of two great shepherd- 
dogs who, seeing these preparations, came close 
to her. Then she said soberly, “ These are 
carried by uncle’s orders ; I never leave the house 


286 


RTUH IRVING , M. D. 


without them. I quite missed my 1 45 9 when I first 
went to the city.” 

So all took their way to the willow-shaded nook, 
while Jessie explained the possibility, though not 
the probability, of encountering prairie-wolf or rat- 
tlesnake, and the science of “ back-firing ” in case 
of prairie-fire. 

“ Jessie, what does ‘ maverick 9 mean ?” asked 
Ruth. 

“ It means an unbranded animal.” 

“ What makes people use such inelegant words ?” 
asked Eva. 

“ Maverick is not ‘ inelegant f it is more appropriate 
than any other name. Mavericks were named from a 
man who used to gather up all the unbranded cattle 
he came across and put his own brand on them ; 
dahlias were named after a Swedish botanist. The 
principle is the same, unless you believe in the old 
heathen notion that a thing grows inelegant in pro- 
portion as it is useful and necessary to mankind.” 

The girls went to the willows on Saturday after- 
noon. Helen Ross swayed back and forth in the 
swing ; Eva, Ruth and Jessie each occupied a ham- 
mock ; they all talked. 


ON THE RANCH. 


287 


<c Girls, I would like to stay at the ranch all the 
time — if I might have you all with me,” said Jes- 
sie as she tapped her foot-rest with the toe of her 
shoe, said foot-rest being one of the great dogs, which 
had followed her. — “ Dr. Ross, don’t you think we 
might manage to have some good times?” 

“ Glorious !” said the Doctor from her swing. 

11 Can you think of anything we have done since 
we have been here ?” asked Eva. 

“ We have made Uncle Jay very happy ; we have 
made some hearts ache ; we have lived — and clams 
do that;” and Jessie laughed. 

“ Do which ?” asked the Doctor, turning in her 
swing and leaning against one of the ropes. “ You 
said that we had made Uncle Jay happy, hearts ache 
and lived — and clams do that.” 

“ My assertion as to clams shall cover all our do- 
ings;” and Jessie laughed again. 

“ We have been growing healthy, brown and very 
happy,” said the Doctor. 

“ Now I know !” cried Ruth, who had been tak- 
ing no part in the conversation. 

“ Know what ?” chorused the girls. 

“ I told you that I had seen Gospel Ben some- 
where,” she replied. “ Now I remember : he was 


288 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


in the street-car the night I first went to Mrs. Jew- 
ell's. He covered me with his coat when the horses 
balked and I was nearly frozen." 

“ Why do you call him ‘ Gospel Ben 9 ?" asked 
the Doctor. 

“ Because he is Gospel Ben," Jessie made answer ; 
“ he is a minister. Uncle knew him well in the East. 
His health failed; he had some sort of nervous 
trouble, I think. He is trying this kind of life in 
hope of regaining his strength. If I am not mis- 
taken, the pulpit will yet hear from Gospel Ben. 
You shall listen to him and judge for yourself 
to-morrow." 

“ Do you mean to say that you have preaching at 
the ranch ?" asked Ruth. 

“ Of course we do. Did you think we were be- 
yond the reach of Christianity ?" 

“ No, but it will seem strange to hear a cowboy 
preach," Ruth replied. 

“ That depends upon the cowboy," said Jessie, 
thoughtfully. “They seem to take pride in their 
cowboy ism, but we have several college graduates 
among our men. We have one doctor, one minister, 
two lawyers and one ex-editor. They seldom speak 
of the life they used to live, but they are not dis- 


ON THE RANCH. 


289 


gracing it now. To-morrow two or three of the 
men will stay with the herds, and the rest will be 
here promptly at ten-thirty for religious services. 
Uncle Jay wishes us to sing something for them. 
Will you, girls?” 

“ We will try what we can do,” said Helen Ross, 
rising from her swing. 

The girls went back to the house, and Jessie sat 
down before her little organ ; the others gathered 
around. The chief business for the remainder of 
the day was practicing music for the morrow. 

The next morning the hall was in its most perfect 
order, and a little before the appointed hour for serv- 
ice there was the sound of many hoofs beating the 
wild turf. Reverently the cowboys filed into the 
room and took their seats. Mr. Fleming and Jessie 
stood by the door and shook hands with every man 
who entered the room. Not only did the Fleming 
herders come, but every ranch for miles around had 
sent its delegation. The news of Jessie Fleming’s 
return had traveled swiftly, and every man of them 
would be willing to ride miles for the sake of hold- 
ing her plump hand in his own one brief moment, 
and of seeing her roguish eyes turned full upon him 
19 


290 


RUTH IRVINO, M. D. 


as he entered the doorway. Then, the cowboy- 
preacher had never ceased to interest. At first they 
went to hear him from curiosity, and then they kept 
on going. Their lives were rough and full of peril, 
but it is in human nature to be glad to have a pray- 
ing friend, no matter how sparingly one may indulge 
in the exercise on one’s own account. Who of us 
but thinks tenderly, 

“ I had a good old father, 

My mother prayed for me ” ? 

So those rough-shirted cowboys gathered at the 
Fleming ranch to have Gospel Ben “ pilot them sky- 
ward.” They did not object to being instructed by the 
damsels in the “ House Beautiful,” though each man 
carried as many revolvers at his belt as if he knew 
he should encounter a lion at the gate. The men 
took care not to swerve one hairsbreadth from the 
proper cowboy custom : the girls had entered their 
realm, and pride of calling kept them distinctly 
cowboys. 

It was the first sermon Ruth had heard since she 
read the little book ; she thought the speaker meant 
it all for her. Through pain and sorrow this Gos- 
pel Ben had gotten close to the hearts of mankind. 


ON THE RANCH. 


291 


Poor Gospel Ben labored under difficulties that 
day. The attention of the masculine part of the 
audience would rove to the corner by the organ 
where the four white-robed maidens were sitting. 
A pair of brown eyes also affected Ben strangely, 
the eyes were so very brown and so intensely earnest. 
Their owner appeared to catch his every word. It 
seemed certain to Gospel Ben that he had known 
those eyes, and known them well, some time, some- 
where. 

“ It must have been when I was on earth before,” 
he muttered under his breath as the service was 
over; but Jessie Fleming was saying, 

“ Gospel Ben, Miss Irving says you saved her 
life — or, at least, did her some great service — once 
upon a time.” 

“ I have decided that I must have known Miss 
Irving in some phase of my existence,” replied Gos- 
pel Ben as he held Ruth’s hand. He held her hand 
a little longer than was strictly necessary, and Ruth 
looked smilingly into his puzzled face. “Ah ! I re- 
member now. I remember your eyes and the bliz- 
zard, the street-car and the balky horse.” 

“ That is an interesting combination of memo- 
ries,” laughed Jessie. 


292 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“ I wonder by what occult power you controlled 
those horses ?” said Ruth. 

Gospel Ben answered only with a smile; some 
way, Ruth wished he would say something on the 
subject. 

Ruth stood beside Gospel Ben while preacher or 
ranchman introduced every cowboy present. They 
all considered themselves personal friends of these 
young women from that day forth. 

It was hard for Ruth to say “ Gospel Ben,” as 
Jessie had done, but he seemed to have no other 
name at the ranch. At length she ceased to wonder, 
and then the name came readily to her lips. 

As Eva Phelps laid her head on her pillow that 
night she murmured drowsily, “ This has been un- 
like any other day I ever knew,” and then a pack 
of wolves howled dismally in the distance. 


CHAPTER XXI Y. 

CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. 

“ It is not ours to separate 
The tangled skein of will and fate, 

To show what metes and bounds should stand 
Upon the soul’s debatable land, 

And between choice and circumstance 
Divide the circle of events.” 

A GAIN the ranch-wagon made a trip to the 
station. The girls impatiently waited for the 
coming of Mrs. Jewell, Herbert Phelps and Charlie 

Hills. 

“ Everybody got hugged but me,” said Charlie, 
dolefully, when the greetings were over and the 
company had filed into the house. — “Miss Jessie, 
what will you do with the tenderfoots?” 

“ Toughen them,” Jessie made answer, senten- 
tiously, as she took Mrs. Jewell away to rest. 

The tenderfoots were shown to Mr. Fleming’s 
room. They saw fit to follow the precedent estab- 

293 


294 


RUTH IRVING, M. I). 


lished by the crowned heads of Europe and wear 
the uniform of the country in which they are visit- 
ing ; they did their best in the way of cowboy dress, 
save and excepting the pistol-belt. 

Mrs. Jewell was very tired; she retired early. 
The others spent the evening in relating or listen- 
ing to stories of Western life. Mr. Fleming prom- 
ised to call them early in the morning should there 
be a prospect of a fine mirage at sunrise; they all 
declared themselves willing to forego their morning 
nap for the sake of viewing that most wonderful 
of Nature’s pictures. 

The people at the ranch were awake and astir 
long before the sun looked over the plains. In 
Jessie’s room there w T as the sound of hurried dress- 
ing and of quick inquiries as to the lurking-places 
of button-hooks and the like. 

The girls appeared in the sitting-room with the 
glow of health on their cheeks, the light of health in 
their eyes. Their plain flannel dresses also enhanced 
their womanly beauty. There was a moment of 
merry waiting; then they all clambered into the 
ranch-wagon and took their way to the bluff-guard- 
ed river in the distance. Charlie Hills and Herbert 
Phelps gloried in the unfamiliar landscape and the 


CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. 


295 


equally unfamiliar dawning lights. Tlieir unac- 
customed dress and the revolver tucked in Jessie’s 
dress-front added a touch of daring to it all. The 
excitement became intense when Charlie caught 
sight of a prairie-wolf skulking among the shad- 
ows of a thick growth of wild sunflowers. 

Spread all around was a scene of unequaled grand- 
eur. The view was so wide, yet everything seemed 
so near ! Rivers with tree-tufted banks gleamed 
in the distance; wide divides bearing innumerable 
shades of green were spread between. Cattle were 
walking on a hundred hills. Man and beast 
breathed a rare, life-giving air. In the east the 
hues of the rainbow melted into a sky of clearest 
blue that bent so near and through which one could 
almost see. The sun shot long splinters of glory 
across the sky ; then his whole face appeared above 
the plain. The picture slowly faded, leaving only 
a limited range of prairie covered with ripening 
grasses. 

The ranch-party were at the highest pitch of 
healthful excitement. It was all so novel ! The 
thin atmosphere was like inspiration. 

“ This air makes it easy to believe in De Leon’s 
fabled fountain,” said Mrs. Jewell. 


296 


RUTH IE VINO, M. D. 


“ I was thinking of the garden of Irem,” said the 
Doctor. 

“ Talk about climatic influences !” cried Charlie 
Hills. “A month ago those two ladies were the 
most sensible people in Nebraska. No wonder it 
takes seven Eastern men to believe one Western 
story, for here are Western women accepting yarns 
that have the sanction of forty generations of Ara- 
bian liars.” 

“ Yes, climate has something to do with Western 
stories,” the Doctor replied, gravely, “ but still we 
must not forget to give newspaper-men their share 
of the credit.” 

“ You ‘render unto Caesar’ with a readiness that 
is startling,” said Charlie, laughing. 

“These things ‘belong unto Caesar/” said the 
Doctor, gayly. 

It was a hungry party that gathered around the 
breakfast- table that morning: the Western air is a 
wonderful stimulant for the digestive organs. 

After breakfast Gospel Ben brought the ponies, 
and riding-lessons were the order of the day. 
Charlie Hills tried to follow all the suggestions 
made by Mr. Fleming, Jessie and Gospel Ben ; in 
so doing he managed to get himself thrown over a 


CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. 


297 


spotted broncho’s hateful head. Mrs. Jewell nearly 
went wild with apprehension. Dr. Ross expressed 
the opinion that when she bought a horse it should 
be an animal that had enjoyed a Christian training. 
Mr. Phelps retained his place in the saddle, for, 
thanks to his boyhood’s farm-life, he had a good 
knowledge of equine matters. 

As Charlie joined the ladies after his attempt at 
broncho-riding he said laughingly, 

“ My respect for the cowboys is rising fast. How 
they control those beasts is more than I can under- 
stand. I should rather tackle the traditional evil 
spirit of the printing-office.” 

The little ponies proved to be an interesting 
study; Mr. Fleming affirmed that he could tell 
much of an animal’s temper and disposition from 
the creature’s color and markings. 

Before the morning was over, Herbert and 
Charlie had become Gospel Ben’s firm friends; 
they thought him an odd and pleasing character. 
Mr. Fleming invited Gospel Ben to take dinner at 
his house, and the whole party added their entreaties 
to his invitation. 

After dinner Mrs. Jewell and the young women 
brought out various sorts of vacation- work ; they 


298 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


declared that they were going to be very quiet that 
afternoon. Ranchman and cowboy took their male 
city -friends away to visit the herds beyond the cor- 
ral. When they returned, Charlie Hills reported 
that their enjoyment was equaled only by the size 
of the country. 

Those people were all wildly, carelessly happy. 
Forms long used to standing firmly under heavy 
burdens shook with happy laughter. Mr. Fleming 
invited his guests to stay with him for ever, but they 
gently and firmly declined to do so. Tine house- 
keeper, who long had been used to the loneliness of 
ranch-life, laid by a stock of memories sufficient to 
enliven another ten years of solitude. As for the 
cowboys, this was the beginning of a new era with 
them ; they reckoned time, past, present or future, 
by its relation to the time u they were here.” 

With sympathetic interest Helen Ross listened to 
the story of the little book, and of how Ruth had 
found that she had a home and a Fathers loving 
care all very sure. This medical-woman had felt 
the burden of Ruth’s unbelief and of her love-af- 
fair; she found that things had all gone right, 
though she had not ordered their going. Her 
heart was very thankful. They talked of Ruth’s 


CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. 


299 


medical studies in the most matter-of-fact way. 
These things should surely be. A doctor’s life was 
such a wide, full life ! There were many opportu- 
nities for grand, patient work ; Ruth wanted such 
work to do. They planned to study together and 
to make the most of Ruth’s little savings. For 
Ruth had paid her debts and had established a 
bank-account ; she was earning what seemed to 
her a great deal of money. She had said nothing 
to Herbert Phelps of all her planning and her sav- 
ing ; so it was that he did not know of her desire to 
write “ M. D.” after her name. Ruth was not aware 
of the fact that Mr. Phelps disapproved of woman- 
doctors. 

There was very little strolling off by twos during 
the ranch-visit ; Mr. Fleming insisted that one or 
more of the cowboys should accompany the ladies 
on their little trips about the ranch. 

Gospel Ben had been appointed a standing com- 
mittee on entertainment. He was fond of botany 
and of what Jessie called “ bugology he had a 
great many prairie-secrets which he delighted in 
betraying. He formed a class in natural history. 
Ruth proved to be a more untiring student than was 
Dr. Ross herself. The girl began later ; she wanted 


300 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


to learn everything all at once. Gospel Ben was 
very patient with her ignorance. 

It was the last afternoon at the ranch. Gospel 
Ben had gone to the station ; the others went to the 
willows to lounge once more in the shade. The 
next dawn would find the visitors far on their way 
to the station, and the ranch-visit would have passed 
into history. 

The afternoon slipped away; long shadows re- 
minded all of specimens and things which must be 
packed. They strolled back to the house by twos. 
Herbert Phelps planned that Ruth and he should 
be the last couple to leave the spot. They lingered 
a short time, and Ruth told the story of the little 
book which had helped her so much. Herbert 
gave her a warm, strong hand as the story closed. 
Then Ruth told of her plans in life — how she was 
to study medicine with Dr. Ross. Herbert’s face 
grew more sober as Ruth went on. Could he tell 
her how he dreaded to have her undertake such 
work ? She was such a slight little woman ! He 
would like her to have a pleasant life and few 
cares. 

“Are you sure you could endure it?” he asked. 


CHOICE AND CIRCUMSTANCE. 


301 


“ I know you are energetic and business-like, but, 
after all that, you are a home-woman. I think you 
would be happier in a home of your own than with 
ever so great a mission outside. Can you have 
both?” 

The two were walking slowly toward the house. 
Herbert savagely cut off the wild-grass heads with 
a cottonwood cane which he carried in his hand. 
Ruth’s eyes were watching the falling heads. She 
knew the path she had chosen would be a weary 
one, but she felt strong just then. She answered 
firmly ; she thought she meant what she said : 

“ I am not like other women ; I was made for 
this outside work. I do not care about a i home of 
my own.’ I never shall marry; that subject is 
not to be considered in my plans.” 

Ruth raised her eyes. A spotted broncho was 
bounding across the divide; the shape of the rider’s 
strong shoulders, the poise of the well-set head, 
were familiar to Ruth. She stopped involuntarily 
and watched the horse and its rider. Waves of 
scarlet swept over her cheeks, her brow, and tinged 
the sun-browned neck with pink. 

“ Oh, Herbert, I can’t help it !” she cried, then 
turned and fled down the path toward the willows. 


302 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Herbert Phelps was no more surprised at this 
conduct than was Ruth herself, but it took him 
some minutes to think it over. At last he com- 
prehended it all. “ Women are queer !” he muttered. 
“After all, Ruth and I are quits. I think I will 
tell her something else, though.” He went back 
to the willows; he found Ruth sitting very still, 
with her face buried in her hands. He laid his 
hand on her bowed head and said gently, 

“ You did not let me finish what I wanted to say. 
It was about the medical education. I think if you 
begin it you will make a success of it. See here : 
your big brother is going to make you a present 
now. It is the first one, you know.” 

Ruth raised her eyes. Herbert held a blue-cov- 
ered pocket-Bible in his hands, and was marking it. 
Then she read the words which he had underscored : 
“ For I the Lord thy God will hold thy right hand, 
saying unto thee, Fear not : I will help thee.” 

Herbert placed the book in Ruth’s hand, and 
then they went back along the path through the 
ripening grasses to the ranch-house. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

TWOS. 

“ To hear, to heed, to wed — 

Fair lot that maidens choose.” 

rTIHERE was a wedding in the boarding-house. 

During a moment of waiting for the bridal- 
party Ruth glanced around the parlor ; she thought, 
“ Xot one married pair in the room l” With some 
“ a little more had made earth heaven ” and then 
slipped away from their lives. 

Mrs. Jewell’s widow’s dress was brightened only 
by white roses at her breast. Charlie Hills stood 
with arms tightly folded over his chest ; Ruth won- 
dered if he thought of the bride over whose grave 
the bright leaves drifted that autumn day. 

This was a pretty wedding — very commonplace, 
of course, for these young people married because 
they loved each other ; with youth, health and hope 
they would set up their household gods. In such 

weddings rests the future of our nation. They only 

303 


304 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


have the shortest possible notice in the evening 
paper, and the shortness is something for which to 
be grateful. 

The boarding-house parlor was bright with sun- 
shine, the air sweet with the scent of flowers. Sin- 
cere friends came with good wishes for the young 
couple. A wedding-breakfast was served in the 
dining-room. A bar of sunlight struggled through 
the geranium-leaves in the large window and fell 
upon the bride, turning her yellow hair into coils 
of gold. She went back to her old room for the 
last time. Her girl-friends all helped while she 
changed the white bridal-dress for a blue traveling- 
suit. The black gowns worn in memory of John 
Anderson’s death had been put away : frost had 
touched the forget-me-nots on his grave. 

The assembled company were waiting for the 
carriages that were to take the bridal-pair to the 
station. As is usual on such occasions, all were un- 
certain whether they ought to laugh or to cry. The 
bride did neither; as for the bridegroom, he was 
the happiest man in the world. 

Jessie Fleming swung an old slipper in her hand. 
Ruth Irving moved about with a basin of rice, from 
which they all took a handful to throw after the 


TWOS. 


305 


departing bride. Jay Fleming, who had been sum- 
moned from the ranch to attend the wedding, dex- 
trously scattered grains of rice in the bride’s hat- 
trimming. Charlie Hills seated himself at the 
piano ; he carefully placed an old shoe on the floor 
beside him. 

“Oh, Mr. Hills, can’t you play something for 
me?” said Eva, with just a little tremble in her 
voice. 

“That is right, Charlie; give us some music,” 
said Mr. Phelps. 

“ This selection seems to be just in the spirit of 
this meeting,” said Charlie, gravely, as he began to 
play in a style decidedly Charlieish; then they 
recognized the strains of “Still there’s More to 
Follow.” 

“ The carriage is coming,” cried Dr. Poss. 

“ Mrs. Jewell, where is your bonnet ?” asked 
Eva. 

“ I shall bid my girl good-bye here in my own 
home ; I dislike to say farewell with strangers look- 
ing on and Mrs. Jewell took another mother’s 
child in her arms and kissed her many times. That 
might have been her own daughter had God been 

willing. 

20 


306 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


The young husband and the young wife went 
down the walk amid a storm of superannuated shoes 
and Carolina rice. After them went Herbert Phelps 
and Helen Ross ; they took their places in the car- 
riage with the “ happy pair,” while Charlie wickedly 
sang, 

" ‘ More and more, more and more — 

Always more to follow.’ ” 

“ Ruthie, will you come back and spend the day 
with me?” asked Mrs. Jewell. 

“ I will, for I am not going to my patient until 
to-morrow morning,” replied Ruth. 

Ruth spent the day at the boarding-house; Dr. 
Ross took supper there. All did their best to make 
believe they were not lonely, but as the Doctor pre- 
pared to go out Mrs. Jewell begged : 

“ Do stay with us, Doctor ! Will you not fill our 
vacant chair?” 

“ Two of my patients must be seen to-night,” was 
the answer ; whereupon Herbert Phelps offered to 
go around to the stable for the Doctor’s horse. He 
soon appeared with the new rig, and after helping 
Helen into her phaeton took a seat beside her and 
gathered up the reins with the air of a man who in- 


TWOS. 


307 


tends to fight it out on that line if it takes seven 
years. 

Ruth’s eyes told Mrs. Jewell that she was sur- 
prised and delighted, and Mrs. Jewell answered by 
a look which said that she had suspected this all 
along, also that she approved of it. 

Mrs. Jewell was occupied with her household 
cares. Charlie Hills and Jessie Fleming held a 
conference in the hall, and then disappeared among 
the shadows of a starlit night. The other boarders 
went their several ways. 

Mr. Fleming called Mrs. Jewell and Ruth to the 
veranda ; they wrapped themselves in shawls and 
told each other that Nebraska certainly has the 
clearest starlight in the world. 

Mr. Fleming had been something of a surprise to 
them all. They had vaguely expected a ranchman 
— perhaps sombrero, pistol-belt and all ; to their 
delight, there appeared before them a fine figure 
clad in a city-made dress-suit with all the accessories 
which the latest fashion demands. Every one said 
Mr. Fleming was a fine-looking man. Those two 
women sitting in the moonlight thought so. 

The grocer’s emissary passed up the sidewalk and 
around to the kitchen door. Mrs. Jewell went out 


308 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


to give orders for the next day’s provisions ; when 
she would return to her friends, they were slowly 
walking back and forth in the long veranda. She 
paused midway in the parlor ; then she softly mur- 
mured, “ Yes, I thought so !” The shadows which 
fell across the window-sill showed two heads bent 
thoughtfully forward. Mrs. Jewell raised her right 
hand solemnly, as if in blessing ; then she tossed a 
kiss after the retreating figures. Returning to the 
dining-room and sitting in the moonlight, her 
memory went back to her long-gone girlhood ; she 
felt again the presence of the man she had married 
one starlit evening years before, and whose last nar- 
row home was on the bluffs to the west. Even the 
most skeptical of us sometimes feel the nearness of 
those who now are only memories. 

Out there in the moonlight Ruth was listening 
while the lawyer-ranchman argued his case as he 
never had done in the old days before judge or jury. 
The temptation to say “ Yes ” was as great as the 
pleader knew how to make it. Mr. Fleming was 
offering her a home and the petting and ease that a 
generous, loving heart and plenty of money can 
command; why not marry him? The clear, soft 
light showed Ruth an honest face ; she was honest 


TWOS. 


309 


with him. There was one reason why : she did not 
love him. 

What do you mean by that word “ love ” — the 
love which sanctifies the marriage relation ? Ruth 
knew that Mr. Fleming was a noble man worthy of 
a good wife. She loved him well enough to enjoy 
seeing his face across the breakfast- table, cheerfully 
to order his house and for his sake to take upon her- 
self many homely duties. Yes, but that is only a 
part of what true love means. Why not take the 
home he offered her? * Marrying for money is quite 
right in the eyes of the world. Ruth did want a 
home so much ! Six weeks of watching had some- 
what worn the gloss off her dreams ; they were not 
so bright as when, full of health and energy, she 
stood under the cottonwoods beside Herbert Phelps. 

In Ruth’s heart was the memory of that fair 
prairie-scene. A single spotted broncho bounded 
across the divide, and the broncho’s rider settled it 
all. Ruth did not perjure her soul : the large- 
hearted ranchman must go back to his lonely home 
and to the rooms peopled by the ghosts of his 
dreams. 

Ruth went home with Helen Ross that night; 


310 


RUTH IRVIRG, M. D. 


she sat in the same easy-chair in which she had 
rested the last December, and oh, she was so tired 
and discouraged ! The victorious often are. 

Do you call it a little victory ? Was the tempta- 
tion a little one ? Ask any woman who has fought 
the world and knows the dangers along her way. 
After all, living is a serious business for even the 
most highly-favored of us. 

That night Ruth read the second chapter of Rev- 
elation ; she lingered a little over the words “ my 
faithful martyr;” she smiled as she read of the 
“ white stone ” and the “ new name,” for she re- 
membered who it was that said, “ For I the Lord 
thy God will hold thy right hand, saying unto thee, 
Fear not ; I will help thee ;” “ Fear not ; for I 
have redeemed thee. I have called thee by thy 
name; thou art mine.” 

Ruth felt very sure that she would be among 
those who have overcome, for up there note is taken 
of bloodless wars and of victories of peace. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

THE HARDER TASK OF STANDING STILL. 

“ For one shall grasp and one resign, 

One drink life’s rue and one life’s wine, 

And God shall make the balance good.” 

TN the elegant room where Beulah Andrus lay 
slowly dying another victory was gained that 
day. Beulah had thought so much of the future 
which never could be hers, but which Ruth Irving 
might enjoy, but oh, this task of standing still, of 
seeing others take life's good things, or else of fold- 
ing them away in a paper marked “ My last will 
and testament 99 ! Beulah was half glad to send 
Ruth away to attend a happier girl's wedding while 
she set her house in order for the coming of the 
heavenly Bridegroom. All day long she lay very 
quietly ; she expressed few wishes to the house- 
keeper, who acted as nurse in Ruth's absence. 

When night came on, Mr. Andrus sat by his 
daughter and tried to pet away some of her pain. 

311 


312 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


There was a wonderful sympathy between that 
strong father and the dying daughter. No other 
voice was so sweet as his to her ears, no other hands 
were so tender, no one else could so quickly under- 
stand her slightest wish. 

“How is my darling to-night?” Mr. Andrus 
asked, giving Beulah little mother-like kisses. 

“ Easier just now, papa, and I want to talk to 
you.” 

“You shall talk as much as you like, my one 
darling,” he said, tenderly ; “ we will sit here in this 
lovely moonlight all alone.” 

The housekeeper left father and daughter to- 
gether; then Beulah said, 

“ Raise me up, papa ; let me lean my head against 
your heart. Papa, what I say will hurt you, but 
please don’t mind it ; for my sake don’t think of 
the hurt.” 

“ I can bear anything for you, Beulah,” he said, 
thinking sadly of the time when there would be 
nothing more to do for his only child. 

“ I have money, have I not, papa ?” 

“ Yes, my darling ; you are my only heir.” 

“ I did not mean that,” she said, “ but mamma’s 
money ; that is mine ?” 


THE HARDER TASK. 


313 


u The day you are twenty-one your mother’s for- 
tune will be made over to you, and you will have 
full control of it.” 

“ I shall be twenty-one to-morrow.” 

u Yes, but I can hardly realize it, my little one. 
How shall we celebrate your majority ?” 

u I shall make my will.” 

The young girl said it slowly, as if deliberately 
weighing every word. 

“ Oh, my Beulah !” and the father’s arms began 
to tighten around her. 

u You are rich ; you don’t need this money, 
papa.” 

“ Not the money, dear one, but I need you and 
the pressure of his arms almost made her cry out 
with pain. 

“ Yes, I want to make my will to-morrow,” Beu- 
lah went on. “ I have set my heart on this thing, 
papa. You know something that I wanted has been 
withheld from me; with all your wealth, I must 
die with my heart’s desire ungratified unless I can 
do it in this way.” 

“ Oh, my darling,” the father groaned, “ I said I 
would not give you up, and now T God is taking you 
from me.” 


314 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


Hot tears fell on Beulah’s face, while sobs shook 
the breast on which she leaned. 

“ Don’t grieve so, papa. You were right ; I see 
it now. I could not do it. My hands are too little ; 
they were always too weak. But Ruth Irving can 
, do it. I want her to have my money ; I want her 
to do my work. It will be easier to die if I know 
that she will do it. I want to make my will, and 
then tell her all about it. Oh, papa, she must do 
it ! It is hard to die with one’s heart’s desire un- 
gratified.” 

“ Everything shall be just as you wish, my one 
darling,” the father promised. 

Early in the morning the lawyer came, and 
Beulah Andrus made her will. There were little 
gifts for friends, something for each of the servants, 
and then the mother’s fortune was willed, without 
condition, to the motherless Ruth Irving. Mr. 
Andrus and his friend were called in to witness 
the signature, and the lawyer said pompously, 

“ Mr. Andrus, you should read this will before 
she signs it.” 

“ This is my daughter’s will,” he replied, sternly, 
as he bent to support the sick girl while she feebly 
wrote her name. 


THE HARDER TASK. 


315 


At last the lawyer was gone, and the anxious 
father bathed Beulah’s face and fanned her gently, 
greatly fearing that the excitement would prove too 
much for her. 

“Was it enough, darling? Are you sure that 
money will do all you wish?” 

“ Yes, papa ; and Ruth Irving will soon be a 
comparatively rich woman. Now, darling papa, I 
give you my best love for ever and the knowledge 
that I die with my heart’s desire fully gratified. 
Papa, darling papa, always remember that there was 
not the least little thing you could do for me that 
you left undone.” 

That night, when Ruth sat by the bed, Beulah 
said, 

“ I want to talk about myself to-night ; may I, 
Ruth?” 

“ Certainly you may,” Ruth replied. 

“ Then sit close to me ; hold my hand. There ! 
So ! I want to tell you about my plans which 
proved abortive, my wants which wealth could 
not gratify. You know that I was at school in an 
Eastern city when I was taken sick. In that place 
I met a Christian gentleman who had come to 


316 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


America to study our civilization, that he might go 
home and teach his own people — a heathen race — 
of the faith in Christ and the good it has brought 
to the world. Hearing him tell of the degradation 
of our sister-women over the seas made it seem 
more real to me than it had ever been before. I 
learned that the surest way to reach them is for 
Christian women to go as doctors, and while work- 
ing for their bodies try to help their souls. I wanted 
to do that very work. I always wanted to do some- 
thing big in the world, but oh, my hands are so lit- 
tle and so weak ! I planned for a medical education. 
I wrote papa all about it. He forbade me to think 
of such a thing ; he said he would never give me 
up. I love papa dearly, but I thought God wanted 
me to do that work for him. I grieved so over 
papa’s refusal ! I worked so hard over my studies, 
hoping all the time that he would consent. I grew 
frailer continually, but I was so absorbed in my 
work that I did not notice it, though I knew I had 
my mother’s constitution. One day I fainted in the 
class-room. It was such a weary while before I 
was strong enough to be brought home ! Papa has 
done everything for me, but it is of no use. I 
mourned so that I must leave my work undone ! I 


THE HARDER TASK. 


317 


mourned until you came, and then I began to think 
how I might yet be able to have my heart’s desire. 
There is one way, and you must help me in that. 
I know this is the kind of work you long for ; I 
know you have more ability for this work than I 
ever could have had. I made my will this morn- 
ing ; I have given you the money which could not 
satisfy my life’s ambition. I planned confidently, 
for I know these thoughts are in your heart. This 
money will educate you and place you above the 
need of working for your living. I want you to 
go much among the lowest poor. I do not think 
of you as a foreign missionary ; I think you are too 
intensely American for that. There is work for you 
in our own land among our degraded, discouraged 
sisters. Tell them I loved them, Kuthie ; tell them 
I loved them because Christ died for them. Tell 
them I would have left all my luxury and gone to 
them and tried to help them to purity and peace, 
hope and happiness ; but tell them I died trusting 
Jesus. Tell them that when dying I sent you to 
them — I sent you to do my work for me. It is all 
settled ; my father will be your guardian. Don’t 
cry so, Ruthie, for we shall each gain her heart’s 
desire.” 


318 


RUTH IRVING , M. I). 


The moonlight filled the room as it had flooded 
the veranda where, twenty-four hours before, Ruth 
Irving had declined to sell herself for gold, and had 
turned wearily to the work she meant to do for God. 
The friend slipping away from life had put out her 
hand, and this was God’s way of making “ crooked 
places straight.” Ruth felt a strange security, for 
the words “ my father will be your guardian ” were 
the sweetest part of her inheritance. 

A few more days, and soft white folds floated 
from the Andrus door-bell. A white coffin was car- 
ried into the front parlor. 

Ruth Irving watched over Beulah’s dreamless 
sleep ; she thought, as she bound the yellow hair 
around the head that rested at last, how the gold- 
like threads were fit emblem of the glory in store 
for God’s enduring children. 

Ruth Irving left that silent form as a prophet 
might return from a walk with God. She had her 
lifelong inspiration ; thereafter her work would be 
the echo of that dying charge, “ Tell them I died 
trusting Jesus. Tell them he died for them ; tell 
them I loved them because he died for them.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 
THE COLLEGE IN THE DESERT. 


“ Where thy life can serve him best 
He hath set thee ; only rest, 

And his purpose thou shalt see.” 

T) UTH went about her studies with the enthusi- 
^ asm of a noble purpose. With the beginning 
of the next college-year she entered an Eastern col- 
lege. The ensuing four years were the happiest, tiie 
most care-free, of her life, as college-years are of 
any earnest life, filled as they are with hard work, 
pleasant friendships and grand plans. 

Nearly every week brought letters from Ruth’s 
Western friends — her home-friends, she always 
called them. Near the end of her junior year one 
of Herbert’s letters contained a newspaper-cutting 
which told how a convict in a certain prison had 
attacked the guard ; how another prisoner had 
thrown himself between them, receiving himself the 
blow meant for the guard, and from the effects of 

319 


320 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


which he died in a few hours. This was Ruth Ir- 
ving’s father. A deep scarlet burned in her cheeks 
as she thought of the shame his life had been, but 
that wicked life had blossomed into one brave deed, 
and he was dead. She had grieved over his life ; she 
grieved over his death. She had but little daugh- 
terly love for him, and it was his own fault. The 
shame of it all ! There were times when it almost 
broke her heart. She went on with her work ; she 
kept her own heart pure; she made her own life 
helpful to others : that was the best and all she 
could do. 

It was nearly the close of Ruth’s senior year. 
She picked up an evening paper and looked over the 
church notices for the next day. This was the first 
notice : 

“ The Rev. Benjamin Maynard, former pastor of 
the First Church, will preach in his old pulpit to- 
morrow morning. Subject, ‘The College in the 
Desert.’ It will be remembered that Mr. Maynard 
resigned his pastorate on account of failing health. 
We congratulate him on his restoration to health, 
and welcome him to our city.” 

Ruth was pleased. She had heard of the Rev, 


the college in the DESERT. 321 

Benjamin Maynard ; she was sure that she should 
enjoy listening to him. She was a little puzzled at 
his subject ; it kept coming back to her. She taught 
in Sunday-school ; she did a great deal of mission- 
ary work for First Church. 

The sweet organ-voluntary was sounding as the 
preacher moved down the aisle. The peculiar poise 
of his handsome head, the swinging motion of the 
strong shoulders, seemed familiar to Ruth. Where 
had she seen the Rev. Benjamin Maynard ? Where 
had she seen that face with its broad brow, kind 
eyes and dark beard cut after the General Grant 
pattern ? 

The organ ceased its sobbing ; the preacher rose 
in the pulpit and pronounced the invocation. At 
the sound of his voice memory ran riot in Ruth’s 
brain, to the exclusion of the opening prayer. That 
voice had controlled the balky horses on the night 
of the blizzard — a night memorable for many rea- 
sons; the hands so devoutly folded over the big 
Bible had covered her with their owner’s fur coat, 
and had also grubbed sand-burs out of the path to 
the willows. Then the long weeks at the ranch, 

when she had constantly met this cowboy-preacher, 
21 


322 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


and he was the first minister with whom she had 
ever felt acquainted. Then the last night at the 
ranch, when she had lingered in the twilight with 
Herbert Phelps. They had returned to the house 
to find Gospel Ben making his farewell call ; she yet 
stood outside the door when he took her hand and 
wished her a pleasant journey. She had answered 
laughingly ; then, while the others were busy with 
the moon and the stars, Gospel Ben had again taken 
her hand in his and said softly, “ God keep you !” 
Then he had disappeared among the shadows. The 
Rev. Benjamin Maynard was just “ Gospel Ben.” 

The service went on. Ruth Irving was a fash- 
ionably-dressed, devout young lady. Ho one in all 
that eminently respectable congregation imagined 
that this brilliant young medical student saw noth- 
ing but a wild prairie-scene, a single spotted bron- 
cho and a strong rider, or that the minister so grace- 
fully conducting their worship saw again the low 
room, the rough-shirted cowboys and the four white- 
robed girls in the corner by the organ, and that he 
looked again into the clear brown eyes he had pict- 
ured a thousand times in Western twilights. 

The sermon began, and Ruth forgot everything 
else. There was a picture of the “desert-place” 


THE COLLEGE IN THE DESERT. 323 


where long ago “ He began teaching them many 
things.” Then the speaker turned to the desert- 
places in human lives like yours and mine. The 
language was very simple ; a child might have un- 
derstood it all. He said : 

“Now, my people — once you were my people, 
and I see in your friendly faces that you will pardon 
a few words about myself — you remember how we 
said ‘ Good-bye ’ when I went away in search of 
mental rest and health. I had gone in and out be- 
fore you. You knew my ways ; many of you knew 
me better than I knew myself. You knew how 
ambitious I was. Sometimes I fear I was more 
concerned about the success of my reverend self 
than about my Master’s glory. God came near 
taking the intellect in which I gloried. I gave up 
study, my chief hope being to keep enough brains 
to enable me to stay outside the insane asylum. 
The prodigal came to himself while feeding swine ; 
I returned to my God while riding a spotted bron- 
cho, herding Texan cattle. I said, ‘Now, Lord, 
I know I was all wrong. I don’t want a corner 
on this preaching business any more ; I don’t care 
about having my sermons telegraphed all over this 
continent. But, dear Lord, please let me do a little 


324 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


something for thee. Dear Lord, will you not keep 
this pain and muddled feeling out of my head when 
I try to think ? Then I will get the boys together 
under the big cottonwood next Sunday morning. 
We will sing thy praises and maybe say a few 
words for thee.’ The good Lord seemed to like 
that. We had a little praise-meeting. The next 
Sunday I talked and the boys listened. We kept 
on with our meetings ; men came from other ranches. 
Though cowboys have the name of being a 6 bad 
lot/ we worshiped God one day in seven, and some- 
times talked of him during the week. Out there 
they call me ‘ Gospel Ben/ I like that name ; I 
hope God will call me by it when I get to heaven. 

“ It is a grand thing to be a messenger of ‘ good 
news/ Men and women, this is the message: 
‘ Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners/ 
Perhaps God wants some of you to carry this mes- 
sage to his creatures. We get full of our small 
ambitions; we have no room for anything else. 
Then God calls us to the ‘ desert/ For every life 
has some ‘ desert-place/ I thank God for the 
‘ desert-place f I thank him for taking me to 
those grand prairies. There he began teaching 
me many things. The college in the desert — there 


THE COLLEGE IN THE DESERT. 325 

is the highest teaching this side of heaven. Christ 
went to the desert with a heavy human sorrow in 
his heart; he was tired. Weariness is sometimes 
harder to endure than sharp pain. But Christ went 
right on living for others, just as he would have us 
live for others in this school where Faith and Hope, 
Love and Pain, are teaching. The graduated 
classes are with him — up yonder.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

TOGETHER. 

“ Part of my soul, I seek thee, and thee claim 
My other half.” 

NE stormy morning, six weeks later, Ruth sat 



^ in a willow rocker and idly toyed with her 
watch-chain ; her visitor sat in a huge self-rocker 
and leaned his head back lazily, unmindful of tidies 
and other such abominations. She was saying, 

“ So Charlie Hills is your Sunday-school superin- 
tendent? Is he as odd as he used to be?” 

“ Yes,” replied Mr. Maynard ; “ I am sorry to 
say that men as noble as he are still considered 


odd.” 


“ I think it is worth one’s while to be odd,” said 
Ruth. “ I always liked Charlie. Tell me more 
about him ; he never mentions himself in his let- 
ters.” 

“ He never talks of himself,” said Mr. Maynard ; 
“he seldom speaks of the past, only as connected 


326 


TOGETHER. 


327 


with yours. I confess he has told me a great deal 
about that ; he always found me a willing listener.” 

“ He writes strange letters,” Ruth went on ; she 
was very much interested in those letters. “ From 
them I know all about the manners, morals and 
politics of your town, the newest settlers, the Indian 
question, the temperance question, the tinting of the 
sky at the last sunset or the state of the town side- 
walks ; but there is very little about Charlie Hills. 
I wonder why he never mentioned you in his let- 
ters? He often mentioned ‘the preacher/ but I 
never guessed ‘ the preacher ’ was Gospel Ben.” 

“Ah ! but he is Gospel Ben and that gentle- 
man rose up and walked to the window. “ Miss Ir- 
ving, does this blizzard remind you of our first ride 
together, or have you forgotten that street-car?” 

“I have not forgotten. That night I entered 
Mrs. Jewells house for the first time ; I found my 
best friends that day.” 

“ Who was that young giant with you ? I don’t 
think I have seen him since.” 

“ That was John Anderson ; he died that Christ- 
mas-time.” 

Ruth’s voice was very gentle; John Anderson’s 
memory grew dearer to her as the years went by. 


328 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


“Ah? I have heard Mrs. Jewell speak of him. I 
am glad you told me ; I like to think that I saw John 
Anderson.” Then Mr. Maynard added, “ Miss 
Irving, do you know that I never took so much 
comfort in performing another marriage-ceremony 
as in the one which changed Mrs, Jewell’s name ? 
Mr. and Mrs. Fleming are a well-mated couple.” 

Mr. Maynard was tired of this small-talk ; he 
had resolved to begin a new subject before he went 
back to his Western home. He returned to his 
chair and tried to collect his wits. He looked at 
the elegant woman before him ; he admired the soft, 
silky-looking dress she wore. He wondered how 
many such robes his salary for a year could buy, 
let alone paying rent-, coal-, grocery- and meat-bills. 
He thought how uncertain (humanly speaking) is a 
home missionary’s bread and butter; he thought 
how near this woman was to wearing a coveted 
title. She made such a pretty picture sitting 
there! Would she send him away alone? If so, 
the cruelest fate must be more than satisfied. 

“ The other blizzard brought good things to us 
both ; shall this one be remembered for still greater 
happiness ? Ruth, I need you ; shall we work to- 
gether ?” 


TOGETHER 


329 


Mr. Maynard thought his words told nothing at 
all of the great love and tenderness he longed to be- 
stow upon Ruth Irving; his voice meant a great 
deal. Ruth had studied voices. 

Ruth was straightforward and honest, just as she 
had always been ; her voice was firm and low as she 
repeated the words of Ruth of old : 
u 1 Thy people shall be my people/ ” 

And Mr. Maynard added, 

“ ‘ The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught 
but death part thee and me. ,,, 

The historian will not meddle further. There 
are times when one prays — often when two pray — 
to be delivered from friends; and modern dinners 
pale before the nectar and ambrosia of the gods. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 
WEIGHTY WORK. 


“ Would you have chosen ease, and so 

Have shunned the fight ? God honored you 
With trust of weighty work. And oh, 

The Captain of the heavens knew 
His trusted soldier would prove true.” 

rTIHE unending changes of Western life have taken 
these friends of ours away from Omaha. 

Jessie Fleming went to an Eastern home, gayly 
maintaining that she never had obeyed, and never 
should obey, anybody ; and her husband smiled well 
content. 

In a busy little town Charlie Hills “ moulds pub- 
lic opinion ” by printing a paper of his own. He 
still calls the world beautiful, still makes his life 
helpful to others. Sorrow has come to him again : 
his little daughter “is not.” The people in that 
new town regard his as a chronic case of bachelor- 
ism, for he never repeats the story he told for Ruth’s 
sake that day so long ago. 

330 


WEIGHTY WORK. 


331 


Herbert Phelps changed his location in that most 
indefinite region “Out West.” He has found the 
one face which completes his home-picture. By the 
door of his new house there hangs the sign, 


H. A. ROSS-PHELPS, M. D. 


His old prejudices went down before love for the 
young medical-woman who, with all her outside 
work, lost none of her sweet home-charms. For 
his sake Dr. Ross packed away the dear old sign — 
her father’s sign and hers. Love will conquer the 
world at last. 

Ruth Irving-Maynard’s home is in another West- 
ern town. This one is neither brisk nor bustling ; 
over all its miserable ways and its unthrifty homes 
may be read the story of the broken hearts and the 
abortive hopes of a race. This town is in the 
Indian Territory. 

Yes, the red man has reddened the earth with the 
white man’s blood. Before you judge him take 
down your Greek or Roman or French or English 
history ; read a little and think much. The whole 
earth is red with innocent blood spilled by the 


332 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


royal houses of Europe; they, with the simple 
North American savage, will one day stand before 
the same Judge and on the same level. John 
Anderson’s great pity for this failing people and 
Beulah Andrus’s desire to help degraded womanhood 
turned Ruth Irving’s thoughts toward this wretched 
race. Her thoughts grew to purpose, and that pur- 
pose was strengthened by the earnest words of such 
noble writers as Helen Hunt Jackson and William 
Justin Harsha. 

Only two buildings in all that tired-looking vil- 
lage have escaped the brand of discouragement. 
There is a home-like cottage, and near it is a little 
church. 

Dr. Ruth Maynard walked quickly along the 
village street ; she opened her cottage door and 
entered a room whose furnishings suggested parlor, 
dining-room, office and study. She had the old 
skillful ways ; her eyes had the eager light of her 
girlhood. She passed on to the little kitchen, where 
an Indian girl was preparing some vegetables for 
dinner. 

The cooking was going forward rapidly when a 
horseman rode by the door and stopped before the 
barn in the rear of the house. Ruth dropped her 


WEIGHTY WORK. 


333 


egg-beater and hurried to meet the rider as he sprang 
to the*ground ; he stooped to kiss the little woman. 
She watched while the horse was cared for; then 
hand in hand they went back to the house. Gospel 
Ben drew his wife to his knee, and between laughter 
and kisses she searched for the letters she hoped to 
find in his pocket. At last she drew out one, ex- 
claiming, 

“ You are my Gospel Ben — my Good-News Ben ! 
Oh, this is Herbert’s writing.” 

“ I hope I have brought you good news, wifie?” 
said Gospel Ben as he bent his head until his cheek 
touched Ruth’s ; so they read the letter together. 

The letter finished, Ruth cried, 

“ ‘ Ruth Benja Phelps ’ ! That is just like them. 
Helen’s baby ! How I want to see her !” 

Then the missionary-doctor went about arranging 
her dinner-table. All the while she talked of the 
new baby and the new baby’s future ; her husband 
listened with the air of a man who considers him- 
self very well satisfied with life. 

There was a noise at the door, and in walked 
Flying Eagle. Sad and stern, he has come to see 
if this wonderful white woman can save his son’s 
life. It is his last hope. The boy must be saved : 


334 


RUTH IRVING , M. D. 


his parents love him. The father said the doctor 
might have his only pony if she would but gee the 
boy ; Ruth explained that the pony would more 
than pay for the trip, and agreed to doctor the boy 
if the father would work for her. Then she invited 
Flying Eagle to eat dinner with her. Remember, 
she follows Him who ate with “ publicans and 
sinners.” 

The Indian feared to offend the wonderful doctor ; 
for the first time in his life he sat by a white man’s 
table. He tried to act like his host ; he ended in 
failure and admiration for Gospel Ben, the wonder- 
ful white woman and a picture on the wall. For 
Beulah Andrus’s face looked down on them. 
The artist had done her work well and pictured the 
delicate tinting of brow and cheek, the clear blue 
of the eyes and the coils of yellow hair. 

Ruth told the story of the yellow-haired girl 
who loved the souls of the dark people and would 
have given her life for them — how, dying, she sent 
Dr. Ruth in her stead. The red man could believe 
that, for the medicine- woman was living and work- 
ing for them. When the dinner and the story were 
over, Ruth mounted her pony and with Gospel Ben 
followed Flying Eagle to his wretched home. 


WEIGHTY WORK. 


335 


And Ruth ? Are her old questions answered ? 
Can she solve the problem of “ surplus ” humanity ? 
She has learned this much : none are surplus in the 
good Father’s love, and he knows the end ; so she 
bravely goes her way and in that “ Land of Fire ” 
works for the salvation of a people whom our law- 
makers seem to consider “ surplus?’ 

To the Northern Indians this region is the 
“Land of Fire?’ There they live in homesick- 
ness for the free wind, the rare, electrified air and 
the bright prairie stretching away to meet the sky 
in the distance. Oh, that “ Land of Fire,” where 
medicine both for soul and body is so sorely needed, 
where the wearing cough of consumption is sound- 
ing the doom of a proud race ! They are very bit- 
ter, very cynical ; bitterly they hate their white broth- 
ers, for here is the cruelest despotism within the 
proudest republic on earth. It is weary work over- 
coming prejudices and teaching God’s wild children 
that the white woman can love them, the white man 
work for their souls and their bodies. Little by 
little victories of peace are gained ; more and more 
often the red woman comes for the white woman’s 
cough-syrup ; more and more often Ruth holds the 
fever-stricken Indian babies in her arms ; more and 


336 


RUTH IRVING, M. D. 


more often the red man listens while Gospel Ben 
tells the story of the gentle Saviour whom the great 
Father sent to a failing people long ago, and how 
his bright blood was shed for the red man as well 
as for the white man. 

The red man sits on a fallen tree and looks at his 
thin fingers. He listens to the wearing cough which 
sounds in his dug-out. He thinks if ever the white 
man loved his red brother he has been a long time 
showing that love ; but maybe the Great Spirit will 
make it all right in the end. 


THE END. 





















